


The Camelot Express

by dreamyemptysouls



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyemptysouls/pseuds/dreamyemptysouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the beautiful song by Porcupine Tree, Trains. Ever since the distant death of his father, Merlin has been the introvert, big-city boy, burying inside his video-games and puzzles and other loner, nerdy, intellectual activities. But this summer his mother decides to send him away from Ealdor to the beautiful yet dying rural region of Camelot, which Arthur hopes to restore to the glory of his own mother’s time. Somehow the two of them and two more friends end up on a train trip all over the region, which promises to change a lot more than it initially intended to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Camelot Express

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers! My first adventure into Merthur fiction turned into two very different, immense fics, and this is the AU!verse, lighter one. I have done a story similar to this one for a different pairing as a request, but this same song played in tune with Merthur took a more interesting turn than expected, and I’m now writing it down.  
> Hopefully it will give you an overwhelming taste of wanderlust or help you cure the one you’re already feeling. In any case, I hope you have a good time reading.  
> On with the story!
> 
> Recommended Soundtrack:  
> Trains - Porcupine Tree  
> Entire Balmorhea discography  
> Island Song - Ashley Eriksson (Adventure Time Credits Song)

_“Train set and match spied under the blind,  
Shiny and contoured, the railway winds,  
And I’ve heard the sound from my cousin’s bed,  
The hiss of the train at the railway head…_

 _Always the summers are slipping away…”_

\---

All in all, it hadn’t been a bad year.

He had excelled in all his exams, in both semesters. People no longer picked on him for being the skinny, weakling stick figure: they rather let him be, let him walk the many plain corridors with his thoughts, his plans, his musings, always somewhat detached from the rest of the world. His roommate, Will, had finally fallen in a comfortable harmony with his schedule, leaving those days full of shouting and ill humor far behind. Will still cursed at him, shouted and regularly complained about Merlin’s behavior, but now the young man could just dismiss it as harmless jesting. All of that was good.

There had been pleasant books to read, challenging mental exercises to accomplish and, above all, amazing video games to be played.

And as Merlin packed the last of his essential belongings onto a large, ratted cardboard box (most of them being the objects described on the last paragraph), he decided that everything was fine, and returning home for the summer would be just the same.

The room he shared with Will was now half dismantled, half a localized chaos. The warm sun spilled into it through the dirty window, hitting every speck of dust dancing across the air, and the young man couldn’t help but feel a small pang in his stomach, betraying his former convictions. Not that it mattered much, anyway. Good or bad, everything would be just the same at home.

Merlin held the box in his arms and motioned to leave, almost tripping over his roommate’s scattered possessions. He had to lock the door because Will would only come to pick up his stuff later, which meant they’d only see each other again come next year. The young man sighed, accustomed to the lonely thought, and kept walking away.

Outside the air was warm as well as dry, no breeze rushing to greet and refresh him. The sun fell on his ivory skin, burning him, as he walked to the nearest bus station. People passed by him, and seemed to recognize him, but no words were exchanged, a normal occurrence. He waited for the bus, and he knew it would take him a good couple of hours before he reached home.

This because Ealdor was a huge metropolis, where you could live and study at the same time and still need to find two places of residence to make it possible. Immense, commercial skyscrapers and the university campus snuggled comfortably at the center, while the suburbs seemed like an entirely new universe on the edge of the city. Merlin, now squished between two bodies in the back seat of the bus, box pressed tightly against his chest, was headed there, to the house where he lived with his mother, still surrounded by activity while holding the quaint coziness of a small hilltop cottage.

Merlin wished he were there already, and released yet another sigh as the bus made its way across this limbo between center and suburbs. Summer wasn’t his favorite season, with the smothering heat dampening his skin, hair and clothes with sweat, making him feel more uncomfortable and awkward than usual. He managed a smile while thinking of his fresh room with his loyal fan and all the time, the peace and quiet he could ever wish to accomplish all his holidays’ purposes. And his mother. His loving, quiet mother.

For the rest of the ride home, he slipped into this wonderful reverie, nodding off now and then, just before the bus hit another bump on the road and woke him up to harsh, hot, clammy reality once more.

Time passed, and not too soon he began recognizing the houses and the people, stretching a long, thin arm to press the ‘STOP’ button. He dislodged himself from the people beside him and trampled to the exit door. He stepped onto firm land, for once feeling cheerful that he was almost there.

And as soon as he rang the bell to one of the many houses lined up along the street, the door flew right open, and an embrace promptly collided with him.

“Oh, Merlin, welcome back!” an aged, feminine voice sighed against him, and the young man found himself chuckling.

“Hello, mum,” he greeted back softly, smiling, allowing her to brush doting fingers over his pale face, mumbling a bit about how bony it still was, and ‘haven’t you fed yourself properly?’.

Merlin laughed and then went inside, finding the small house exactly as he had left it. He walked a straight line between the turned-on television and the couch into the kitchen, and as his mother offered him a large cookie that she took from a glass jar, he pointed to the box he carried and excused himself through a mouth full of crumbs.

“I’ll call you when dinner is ready,” was her smiling reply.

His old room was just upstairs, right across his mother’s. Once inside, he took comfort in seeing just as unchanged, and fresh, and quiet despite the wood grumbling beneath his feet with every step he took.

He slumped down to his creaky, small bed, and began going through the box.

This was comfortable for him, easy. He stashed his books next to the ones on his desk, leaning on his computer screen. His Rubik cube, his video games, his portable console and his other, recreational books were placed inside an empty drawer. Then it was his old console’s turn, and he unraveled the cables connecting the main body to the controls, to the little television before his bed, the outlet carved on his wall. He plugged them all slowly, carefully, almost as if it were a ritual. He flipped its switch on and then off just to see the standby red light greeting him, and then he put the second control away. There’d be no need for it, after all.

When Merlin was done, he dropped the old box in one corner of the room, and decided to go fetch his trusty fan from the cupboard. It was plugged next to his console, the loud whirring followed by a fresh gust finally telling him he was home. The young man then settled back on his bed, lying with a thud. The familiar, comfortable mattress and the ineffable peace offered him a new opportunity to doze off, and he almost took it.  
‘Almost’, because just like before this opportunity was short-lived, and Merlin’s mother soon climbed the stairs loudly, coming to call her son to dinner. The young man was already sitting up when the woman stood on the threshold, and whatever Merlin felt about returning home, his mother felt it tenfold.

She approached him and her eyes grew soft looking about the room, seeing it occupied once more. She bowed her head down to kiss the young man’s forehead, brushing his smiling lips with a kind, calloused thumb.

“It’s good to have you back, dear. I missed you,” she whispered. “Now come and eat. You’ll have some fattening up while you’re here, that I promise!”

Their meal was spent in comfortable silence, sometimes broken by the caring woman asking questions and Merlin replying, the TV mumbling quietly in the background, along with the rattle of plates and forks and knives. The young man gobbled it all up, as usual, and he knew that even with that he wouldn’t gain any weight…

After dinner (home-made sausage with potatoes and spinach), the two washed the dishes together, and because Merlin wouldn’t stop yawning throughout it, his mother quickly dismissed them both to an early and good night’s rest.

Again, she kissed his cheek dearly, and he had to bow down considerably for he was so much taller than his mum. Then he dragged himself once more to bed, without even bothering with changing his clothes. This time his chance to drift off to Dreamland was neither wasted nor interrupted, and if he dreamt of impossibly emerald fields and of running across them while screaming, screaming, screaming, perhaps in delight, or frustration, or both, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

\--

Merlin’s life shouldn’t have been like this. But at some point you realize that should or shouldn’t doesn’t quite work in life and you end up accepting it, and making the most of it. He was alone, yes. But perhaps never quite lonely. Solitude was a gift much too underrated, and the young man was willing to harvest it to its very end.

Merlin and his mother, Hunith, had been living on their own for years now. Merlin’s father, Balinor, had died in an accident that caught them completely by surprise, a car that broke down and hit him before it could stop at the red light. Though Hunith had always her son to go through the grief, she turned inside herself almost immediately, shutting down to all other people in this metropolis. Her young son, still a child at the time, took his mother’s example himself, and he soon preferred to stay alone and nurture his knowledge and intellectual entertainment rather than reach out and communicate with others.

He was the boy who stayed at a corner of recess and counted all the trees, the blades of grass and the small insects, wondering how they managed to maintain such an organized civilization, how they went about solving their problems and their struggles. He imagined being that small and facing this immense world on his own, solving all these problems by himself, managing such a huge colony with no trouble. He was the boy who skipped school parties and stayed in his room playing all sorts of games, reveling in the logic of the consequences to his actions, in the wide, wide world unexplored and full of promise, imprinted on the screen, in the control he seemed to have over this contained life.

In body, he was pale, frail and skinny, in heart, he was awkward and completely lacking in social skills, but in brain he grew smarter every day, making everyone impressed with the quiet kid who did so well in school.

He had no true friends to call his own, but people usually treated him well when addressing him, and he was kind even if slightly skittish in return. And of course there were always people who viewed him as weird and somewhat frightening, but Merlin knew well to ignore and stay away from those.

He grew up without changing much, just picking up more fruits of his self-cultivated knowledge with each year that passed. Hunith sometimes worried how much this introverted lifestyle affected her son, especially when he spent so much time alone and was oh so quiet, but Merlin could say with all sincerity that he was happy, and that reassured her.

He went from childhood to adolescence with minor tumbles with his sexuality, and both times he shared something more intimate with another human being were heartfelt though fleeting. Emotions, when Merlin could nurture them, were a warm weight on his heart that made him giddy in a way he had never experienced otherwise, and it was just a shame that luck hadn’t allowed him a longer time with them, or he was just so clumsy at that.

In school, he still held the place of best student through all the years, and continuing his studies in Ealdor University came all too naturally. A scholarship made it easier for him to start his course in Management, and now Merlin was almost done with it, having finished his fourth year. One more year and it’d be through. He met Will there, when he found out he was to be his roommate, and their friendship might have started a bit badly, but he now knew he could count on him, even if Will still found him a bit weird and they couldn’t relate all that much.

College was hard work, and even if Merlin had wanted to maintain an active social life, it’d be hard to do so with the kind of focus he gave to his studies. Which eventually paid off, for his teachers seemed to be thrilled with all he brought to their classes, and many of them were already suggesting future job offers with him, some of them in highly respectable companies at the very center of the city. Will mocked him for still being studying and not accepting these offers right away, graduating earlier, but the other man couldn’t quite explain why he did so himself. There was a feeling of entrapment in accepting something so determining, so final, and Merlin wanted to take his sweet time making that decision.

Yes, Merlin was happy with his life. Even if sometimes an inkling of something bothersome nudged him from the inside, and he found himself wondering if this was really all his existence amounted to. He shoved it deep, silencing it away, furiously determined to say yes, and that it was actually something to be proud of. But sometimes not even Merlin could convince himself.

However, summer vacation was never a time to dwell in these matters, it meant relaxing, finding more games and challenges, feeding this hunger for thrill that had been starved for a whole school year.

One of the best perks of living in a city as huge as Ealdor was the fact that even the suburbs had their own very decent game stores, and the one Merlin knew was like a second home to him (even more so than his shared room with Will).

He walked there first thing in the fresh morning, after a quick breakfast and even quicker goodbyes to his mother, sporting a magnificently ragged pair of jeans and a tight green t-shirt with three pixilated red hearts lined over his own racing heart. The store was open even this early in the morning, and the old (almost ancient) man who stood behind the counter was absolutely reeling from seeing his favorite client here.

For this was Merlin’s favorite game store, Dragon’s Den, and Kilgharrah was the closest thing he had to a best friend in the world. With his bronze yet graying hair, his knowing hazel eyes and gold-wired spectacles hanging from the tip of his powerful nose, the old man showed an interest in video gaming that was a treasure in someone of his generation, but even so, next to him even an addict like Merlin was nothing more than a novice.

Usually sporting his suit, crocodile-skin shoes and perfect tie, a bizarre attire for his occupation, Kilgharrah earned his nickname “the Great Dragon” for winning a very renowned and difficult gaming tournament when he was younger than Merlin, using only an often overlooked character that had the powers of a dragon hatchling. He still recounted the tale many times to the new clients and Merlin, talking of consoles so old they were hard to come by even in his store, with terrible graphics and much more regrettable sound effects, to everyone’s amusement.

The young man came here for this sense of kinship between them, to get some hints whenever he was stuck in a particularly difficult part of a game (and Kilgharrah was irritatingly cryptic in all his help, frustrating Merlin rather than aiding him), and of course because this was the best store he had known.

It sold the obvious games and consoles, both old and new, used and still sealed, and merchandise – action figures, mugs, posters, and t-shirts, on which Merlin obsessively preyed (where else could that current t-shirt of his have come from?). But it also had a small space where any customer could come and set up any of the available consoles and just play the day away, and Merlin used his vacations to do just that, for nowadays his tattered Nintendo 64 alone couldn’t give him the thrill he needed.

So, just as usual, Kilgharrah came round from his counter and gave Merlin a heartfelt handshake, exclaiming a powerful, “It’s wonderful to see you again, young apprentice!” as the young man replied with a cheeky, “Someone has to keep you company, old master!”

Then the old man laughed and proceeded to dig further into the store, beckoning Merlin to follow him. Apparently, there was much to show him after such a long absence, and the young man was in awe of the new games he had read reviews of in college, like the sequel to Portal and the new Pokémon games, or the new consoles he had been dying to try, new t-shirts he had ordered over the time.

So, for the rest of the day, Merlin settled with the PS3 before him and attempted to play the new Portal game, the strange device unique to its plot showing on the lower right corner of the screen, the half orange-half blue circle in the middle showing him where he was to aim. It was a funny, challenging game, and Kilgharrah and other unknown customers came watch him when they had nothing better to do, and when it was just master and student, the two would sometimes indulge in the most precious aspect of their strange friendship: when the two would debate most exciting and philosophical subjects, like the meaning of life, human condition, and how bizarrely did it all fit with their favorite hobby!

Unlike his conversations with people his age, Merlin could relate to Kilgharrah, even if he was as cryptic as usual in his advice and metaphors. It was almost as if they were kin. Somewhere during their last talk for the day, however, the Great Dragon asked him something he had never done before…

“Am I wrong to assume you’ll have interesting plans for this summer, young apprentice?”  
“Huh, yes?” Merlin replied, a bit confused, after his avatar in the game was propelled from a portal he had fallen into before. “You are wrong, I mean… In fact, I intend to visit you a lot during the summer, master. Whenever my mum doesn’t need me at home.”

At this Kilgharrah seemed rather thoughtful, yet resolute in his belief of Merlin’s agenda. “No interesting proposals, perhaps work-related? I hear you are quite popular in that university of yours…”

And the young man couldn’t help but fluster at the compliment. “Well, yes… I’ll have you know that many fancy companies wished I’d work for them already… but I politely refused.”

“And you did well!” Kilgharrah assured, holding now the young man’s gaze with his own. “You are destined for far nobler things, I’m sure. I was just under the impression they were already headed your way.”

Merlin laughed, “Well, they’re not. Actually…” and he hesitated now, afraid that voicing his uncomfortable feelings from before would only make them more real, “… I wonder if this is what I’m supposed to do at all… I know it’s what I love, but is it enough?”

It was the old man’s turn to chuckle now, a deep sound that scratched his throat while climbing out, and his certainty of his words was renewed at once. “How can I know, you fool?” But he sounded anything but ignorant. “I guess we just have to wait and see…”

And with that Merlin could completely agree.

At the end of the day, the boy had passed more than half of the game and had purchased three new t-shirts, referencing three different games (including Portal). He returned home still pondering on Kilgharrah’s words, as always infuriated with his vagueness and wisdom, and when he arrived his mother received him with open yet worried arms.

\--

The rest of his week was spent in a similar fashion, only the games, the consoles and the audience would change to some extent every day, and Kilgharrah didn’t mention his noble destiny again among their conversations.

And Merlin didn’t think about it anymore, not at all…

But what the young man didn’t know was that this summer was steadily becoming completely different from all others, simply because back home Hunith was considering her son’s actions in a whole new, different light.

Even knowing how seemingly happy Merlin was, the poor woman couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would be if her silly reclusive behavior hadn’t spread to him. As soon as the young man left home in the morning, she’d watch him walk away through the living-room window, deep in thought, and pondered on something – anything! – she could do to at least give his life some… variety. An idea crossed her mind, a good one, and she held onto it.

Deeply focused, she let her feet take her upstairs, to a drawer in her bedroom where she kept all her memories. And beneath Merlin’s teenage pictures, his childhood ones, even beneath their family pictures with Balinor, she found the remnants of her own infancy, a very old photograph which showed her as a grinning child next to her parents and other people, and another man who held an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Kilgharrah. Hunith turned the picture over and on its back someone had written a number, probably a phone number. Next to it were the words, ‘Gaius, Camelot Apothecary’.

The woman stared at the scribbles as if they’d answer her every question, but she knew it’d all depend on her actions. Feeling suddenly determined, she closed the drawer, picture and number in hand, and she ran back downstairs. She picked up the phone, and steadily dialed the number.

Hunith sighed, but was smiling. She had a good feeling about this.

\--

When Merlin came home that evening and helped his mother set the table for dinner, he couldn’t help notice how utterly quiet she was. He eyed her carefully, wondering if something had happened while he was gone, or if she had merely been lonely with his absence. The boy promptly felt guilty for spending most of his time away, leaving Hunith with all this silence…

However, he was soon to discover that all his worries were in vain.

Merlin was downing his seventh spoonful of soup when his mother asked, “How was Mr. Kilgharrah today? You didn’t bother him, now did you?”

The young man cringed at his friend being treated as a ‘mister’ when he talked to him like he talked to Will, despite the age difference. “Of course not, mum… But…” he hesitated, “he always seems surprised to see me every time I come around now. And he’s gotten into his head that I’d have something very important, DESTINY-related, to do this summer. I have no idea what he’s talking about…”

And Hunith found this to be the perfect chance to bring up the subject she’d been avoiding.

“Maybe he’s hoping you’ll get a change of air, get out a little. I’m hoping for that too.”

At this Merlin’s hand stopped moving, his spoon hovering in midair. He eyed the woman with confusion, but her clear, blue eyes, just like his, held him with confidence. “I never told you much about Camelot, have I?” she asked. The young man shook his head in reply.

He had lived all his life in Ealdor, as his father did, but not Hunith. She was born in a village quite far away, but his grandparents had moved here when she was only a girl. Merlin knew they had left because the entire region was dying, suffering the biggest rural flight in the last century. He assumed Camelot had turned into a ghost country already…

But apparently that wasn’t true. His mother continued her explanation, “I still have a good friend there, Gaius. I mean, he was more a friend of my parents, but I still keep in touch with him. I phoned him today, and told him about you, actually. Oh, Merlin…” Hunith finally caved in, emotion filling her eyes, “I’d love it if you could go visit him at Citadel, help him out. He’s an apothecary, you know, and he’s been an advisor to Uther Pendragon for a long time. He could help you, too.”

The young man was slightly taken aback with his mother’s words, needing a few moments to reorganize his thoughts. He knew that Citadel was the most important village in the entire Camelot, where Hunith was born. He had also heard of the Pendragons, the richest family in the region, who had stayed and tried to revive it even when most of the people had left, leaving only the elderly and a few younger stragglers behind. So they still hadn’t given up yet… But… what was his mother hoping to accomplish with him visiting there?

Merlin didn’t understand, and for that he started feeling defensive. “And what is wrong with me staying here?” he asked, now frowning. “I haven’t been here in so long, I thought it’d make you happy…”

“And it does, sweetie…” Hunith reassured him, a hand over his arm. “And I know you are happy to be home, and don’t want your life to change, but I’m worried that when you finally go on by yourself you won’t have anyone to be with, or the motivation to make friends. People in Camelot are very different from here. And you’ve never been there, so you can never understand just how they think, what they value, what they want. I think… I’m sure you’d find something good there. And Gaius can help you. He’s been dying to meet you!”

Merlin sighed, a part of him rejecting this idea with all its strength. He really wasn’t good at this, at meeting old family friends, at going out of his familiar urban bubble, at being stripped of all his tiny sanctuaries. But he looked at his mother and she was worried, and the other part of him, the one that badgered him when it was most unwelcome (like now), begged him to listen just this time.

So the young man sighed again and nodded, defeated. “Alright… When has this Gaius invited me to go?”

Hunith smiled widely and genuinely now, pulling her son into a tight embrace. Merlin felt the kiss she dropped on his cheek and managed a tiny smile in reply, even as the woman carried on talking, “We can get you there tomorrow evening. I’ll help you pack in the morning and after lunch you can go catch the train. Is that okay?”

Merlin nodded again, and the two spoke no more of the matter, quietly finishing their dinner and spending the rest of their evening watching silly TV shows.

When he went to bed, the young man decided he’d visit Kilgharrah before leaving Ealdor. It turned out he really had plans for the summer, and the same part of him that had agreed with that was eager to know his old master’s opinion on the subject…

\--

Packing wasn’t an easy task. Hunith had to drag a huge, long forgotten backpack from the closet and from under its impressive cover of dust, and Merlin was at a complete loss of what he should put in it, even more than when he had to leave for college for the first time. Thankfully, his mother was there at every stage of the complicated process, with her usual endless patience and guidance.

Clothing went in: more video game-related t-shirts and comfy jeans and sneakers. A small jacket for the colder nights. Some food and water went in for the train journey, for it’d take him a whole afternoon to get there. Stubbornly refusing to leave without a sanctuary, Merlin also packed his beloved Nintendo DS (the XL model, of a custom and horrible yellow color), his 4x4 Rubik cube and his Nintendo 64, with a few games and the extra controller just in case. Finally, a small bag with his hygiene material also went in, containing his toothbrush, toothpaste but no hairbrush, since his thin, black, straight hair couldn’t be tamed into order by such a weak tool of grooming.

He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be at Gaius’s, but his mum had him prepared for at least one month. Merlin wasn’t sure he’d last that long… Once his bag was ready, though, he set out to meet Kilgharrah one last time, before he’d have to return for lunch and leave.

The older man watched him come in with great interest, eyebrows raised, especially considering the focused, frowning expression on Merlin’s face.

Luckily, the shop owner sensed he hadn’t come for long, or for his usual goals, so the young man went directly to the point. “So, you were right all along, something did come up…”

Kilgharrah smiled at that, all too knowingly, nodding, “I had a feeling. Do you care to share?”

“My mum wants me to go to Camelot, to meet a man called Gaius. She thinks we can help each other, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do in a place that’s already doomed… Is this what you were expecting?” Merlin sighed and asked.

Annoyingly, the older man laughed heartily, throwing his head back as his body shook. When he spoke again, Merlin was pouting, “I’m being serious here… How will this help?”

And without stilling his smile, Kilgharrah finally replied, “Oh, how can you not see it, young apprentice? Doesn’t the call of a lost cause appeal to your heart at all? Don’t you spend hours before a screen doing what you’re being asked to be doing now, real and palpable? What’s holding you back?”

“Well, this isn’t a game, Kilgharrah, it isn’t just a story…” the young man almost growled in reply, getting slightly furious. “I won’t be doing anything useful. I’ll just get in the way.”

The older man’s smile fell a bit, but not his good disposition or his certainty. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are outstanding at what you love and it’s time you realize just how much you can accomplish with that. I think you’ll have a great time…”

Merlin was tired of arguing with someone who wouldn’t change their mind, and this wasn’t his goal at coming here at all. All he wanted was his master’s opinion, which seemed clear now. Still, he was frightened of facing this whole new challenge by himself, and this time there were no hints he could be taking from his old friend.

“This Camelot, you appear to know it well… besides, from what I hear everyone talking, it’s not even something especial, otherwise people wouldn’t be leaving it in flocks…” the young man spoke, a quieter, sadder tone now.

Kilgharrah came from behind the counter and rested a long, boney hand over the young man’s shoulder. “I only know what you know, my friend. And I can only tell you what I know, the rest are just conjectures of an old fool. Maybe the people have given up on the land too soon. Maybe two new sets of eyes can see something worthwhile…”

“You mean me and Gaius?” Merlin asked, confused. He was already expecting the riddle feel of the other’s advice, but this was getting ridiculous.

Kilgharrah’s smile grew again. “No, I meant someone… younger. It is your youth’s time now, after all.”

And the young man decided to press the matter no further, lest he got even more lost. Besides, if the clock above the store’s counter were to be believed (and Merlin knew it was), he was already getting late for lunch.

He said goodbye to his friend with the same handshake he had given him days ago, and in a rush he returned home.

Oh, how this adventure of him promised to be weird!

-

The train station was a few miles from Merlin’s house, and he had to get there by bus, since neither him nor his mother owned a car. She watched him leave with some soft emotion pooling in her eyes, making her tear up, but she was smiling nonetheless. The young man gave a final wave and held no expectations for his near future, but he felt troubled, scared, detached, like he was inside someone else’s body, going somewhere he should never attempt to.

He had never been to the station before, nor had he ever ridden a train. When he got there, backpack unbearably heavy on his body, the sight of the variety of people wandering about, most of them clearly foreigners, made the experience even more unreal, and he had to pay extra mind to his feet, not to fall flat on his face.

Merlin didn’t dare ask anyone for help in getting his tickets, but he followed the general crowd, and that was helpful on its own. He gave the ticket machine the appropriate amount of money and it returned a small piece of paper with his destination printed on it, and then he waited to be called inside.

The journey itself was nothing remarkable or threatening, for Merlin knew well how naturally reserved people were, keeping to their books, their thoughts, their lives, invisible barriers set all around them, unwelcoming any intrusion. So the young man kept to himself too, snugly sat in a corner of one empty compartment, pulling out his portable console and just playing the hours away. This was familiar. This was a good start.

Focused as he was in his current distraction, Merlin paid little mind to the gradual changes to the world outside, the fading of the immense towers of glass, metal and concrete into the background, leaving just a lovely shade of light green smudged all across the ground, against the deep blue of the sky. The train made few stops, and though many people left, no one new would come in. In time, Merlin became the only person in most compartments.

At some point, the young man was lulled by the rhythmic clinking of the train’s wheels against the tracks, the light dimming outside his window, and after having a small snack he fell into a shallow nap. Time passed faster this way, unworriedly, and for the rest of the trip Merlin was dwelling in half dreams of him meeting Gaius (and what kind of a man would he be?), working so hard not to screw this up.

He returned to full awareness with the train’s last stop, a narrow trail of drool staining the shoulder of his t-shirt, and as he stepped down onto the unknown platform with numb legs, he realized he had been alone in the train for a while now.

Night was already settling in this unfamiliar place, and the deserted station, much smaller than the one in Ealdor, offered him no indication of where to go. Merlin wanted to panic in front of the first problem to come across him, but an approaching figure delayed him just a bit.

The arriving person, a man about the same age as Kilgharrah (therefore, ancient), had straight grey hair that fell to his shoulders and a set of shrewd dark eyes that fixed him with great curiosity. His face was wrinkled but wise, and he seemed to be assessing the young adult before him, clad in ragged jeans and yet another game t-shirt, all blue and with the Pokémon Wobbufet’s face planted on it. The eyebrow (high, very high) above his right eye only accentuated Merlin’s feeling of exposure.

“Are you Merlin?” the man asked, his voice dry and calculating. “Hunith’s son?”

At this, the young man sighed and chuckled in relief, reaching out his hand to shake the other’s, “You’re Gaius?”

Gaius showed a lopsided smile and greeted Merlin back, nodding as well. “Indeed I am. You arrived just in time! Now if you could follow me...”

And so Merlin did, afraid that he’d topple to the side and fall with every step, under the burden of his backpack. But fortunately he remained steady for the rest of the short walk to Gaius’s home, feeling slightly oppressed by the inhospitable feel of this strange place.

It was dark, so the young man couldn’t quite tell how Citadel, the village where his mother was born, actually looked like, even under the mechanical light of street lamps. But he noticed right away that many of its houses were empty, decaying, and they had been built along in lines with only narrow streets to separate each line. Still the windows looked like eyes to him, wondering who was this stranger and what was he doing in a place everyone else left.

The house Gaius led him to was just as unfamiliar, though he found it actually quite similar to his as soon as he stepped inside. They entered it through the small living room and the kitchen was right beside it, with their couch, their wall of books stored in a high bookcase, all the kitchen appliances, the fridge and a small table. A long spiraling staircase snaked to a higher floor, where Merlin supposed the bedrooms were.

Gaius beckoned the young man to leave his backpack by the couch, while he made his way to their dinner set on the table for two.

Their meal was silent except for the few questions the older man threw here and there, mostly regarding his mother’s health and life, his own doings, and he seemed rather interested on the course he was taking in college.

The food Merlin was eating (some sort of stew with bits of meat and clumps of rice) tasted nothing like his mother’s, but he didn’t complain. Once they were done and the young man politely offered to do the dishes, Gaius showed him the tools of his trade scattered about the living room: books on botany, many lab items like microscopes, tubes and flasks, an assortment of instruments he used to measure the herbs in the wild. He briefly explained how many people in Camelot still relied in this kind of medicine instead of the modern kind, and Gaius was proud to say that he’d rarely let his people down.

There was a kind of order about his work that appealed to Merlin, with the attention given to the stock of herbs and the purchase of chemicals all the way from the nearest cities, like Mercia, and for once he believed he could enjoy this after all. The worse part came when Gaius explained how he’d have to deliver this medicine directly to the people, paying close mind to how they’d administrate it and what went to whom, or how many of the herbs had to be carefully picked around the village. Apparently, he was hoping for Merlin to help him with that kind of work…

However, the night was far too drawn out for any further intelligent conversation, and Gaius promptly pointed him to his room…

“I figured you would want the television more than I do, so I had it put in your bedroom,” he added, smiling understandingly. He placed a hand on his shoulder before saying, “It’s nice to have you here, Merlin. Tomorrow is a new day, and then we shall talk more. Good night.”

The young man agreed and thanked him, and then proceeded to drag his bag upstairs, a Herculean feat considering the upward narrow spiral. He reached his room almost out of breath, only to be faced with his new quarters.

There was a small cupboard by a small window, and the small television faced his small bed. And Merlin meant small, for his considerable height wouldn’t fit there, and he was sure the covers wouldn’t reach his feet. The entire room felt all too big considering its humble contents. Still the young man chuckled as he unpacked most of his belongings, striving to be quiet while he reviewed his setting-the-Nintendo-64 ritual in this strange environment, placed his small pieces of home on his bedside table.

He changed his clothes for his fluffy pajamas, and reckoned he could reuse the clothes the next day. He laid belly side up on the bed, and cringed at how it creaked loudly with his every movement, the frail wooden frame constantly threatening to crumble down. And, indeed, the covers didn’t quite reach his bony feet, or the bed itself didn’t quite reach his heels. It might be summer and the young man had a feeling the weather would be much warmer here, but the nights were still cool, sending shivers down his spine…

Merlin sighed and turned his head to the far-off window, noting that there wasn’t a curtain to block off the dim street light. This meant an early morning tomorrow…

With this in mind, he decided to shut off all protests and frightened thoughts at once, telling himself all he needed was a decent night’s rest. Like Gaius had said before, tomorrow would be a new, hopefully better day, and then he would sort through all these new, ominous complications.

\--

Merlin ended up waking up earlier than he had expected, as Gaius furiously banged on his door with the first rays of the morning, telling him he would be late. The young man rose feeling sore all over his body, and he wasn’t even completely aware of this waking world surrounding him while he got dressed and washed up through half-closed eyes.

Something very similar to his dinner last night awaited him downstairs for breakfast, but Merlin soon found out it tasted sweet and much better. He ate it eagerly, only then realizing how hungry he had been. In front of him there was a sheet of paper sitting on the table, and he could read several names in Latin next to images of plants that look remarkably similar.

Gaius spoke up before he could ask anything, “That is the list of herbs I’ll be needing tomorrow. They’re best picked up in the morning and you can find them all around the village. It’ll help you know your way around, and you can start getting to know the people as well. Is that okay with you?”

Merlin gulped down the last of his breakfast and took a closer look at the paper, crinkling his brow in slight despair. But this had been his purpose in coming to Camelot after all, and he wouldn’t disappoint his only guardian in this lonely place.

So the young man smiled and nodded, and the older man proceeded to happily give further instructions regarding each one of the many plants, including the best spot to find them and how much he was to bring with him. Merlin stuffed his much lighter backpack with several plastic bags to gather the herbs, and when he was about to leave the house, he was stopped by yet again Gaius’s hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, my boy, the people here won’t bite you. I’m sure you’ll do a good job.” And, for once, the young man was slightly relieved that his nervousness showed through. He nodded, and left to see Camelot for the first time.

In all honesty, however, the giddy motivation brought about by Gaius’s comment soon vanished.

The village looked as inhospitable and claustrophobic in the morning as it did the previous night, sitting on a valley, surrounded by tall, imposing mountains, and now the few people that still lived there, all wrinkly and sun-kissed and wide-eyed, had turned all their attention to the stranger, the young stranger.

Merlin didn’t like this one bit, not when the people were so few, so connected to each other, so aware of what changed around them. Not when he had nowhere to hide and he could feel all those questioning, curious eyes on him, when he could hear the whispers and the expectations and he couldn’t deal with all this at the same time.

It didn’t help much that he seemed to get constantly lost in such a small village (he had passed the school, the church and the biggest farm at the center twice already, and the busy tavern at least five times), which would only add to the people’s foul opinion of him. Also, he still hadn’t found a single plant in Gaius’s list…

After a while, Merlin decided he needed a breather and found a nice little corner to crouch and hide among the chickens, hands gripping his hair tight, trying to bring order to his thoughts, calm to his despair. But like he had gloomily expected, he found no solitude in his ridiculous hideout, and soon a young woman, who sounded about his age, shook him with insecure hands and broke him from his panic attack.

“Hello? Are you alright?” she asked, and when the young man looked up, he could see how concerned she really was. Her skin was dark and her eyes were round and big, a small nose sitting on her bubbly face. With the same hand she used to shake him, the young woman placed a stray curl of her long, dark hair behind her ear. “You’re Gaius’s guest, aren’t you? You seem a bit… lost… Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Merlin!” was all the young man could shout when faced with such sudden human contact, and he was equally confused and relieved that the other merely laughed with amusement in return.

“Hello, Merlin. My name’s Guinevere, but people usually call me Gwen,” she offered back, smiling. “So… what are you doing here?”

His expression changed into a wide grimace as he explained, “I am really lost, actually. Gaius sent me to find a few herbs, but I really don’t know where to start…”

Gwen laughed more but remained as kindly helpful as before. “Just tell me what you need!”

And just like that Merlin’s worries began subsiding once more, for he handed the young woman his list (and apparently she had done a bit of this work for Gaius before) and guided him flawlessly across the village, pointing him all the magic spots with his growing plants that he had missed in his stress.

The young man picked up just enough, a bit awkward in his very unsuitable attire for the task, and all the while the two of them managed to maintain a pleasant, reasonable conversation.

Guinevere, like everyone else in the village, just wanted to know Merlin’s reasons for being there, and he tried to explain them the best he could, even if he wasn’t all that certain of them himself. While they walked together, some people were curious and bold enough to approach them, to question Merlin in their own turn, and he found that Gwen’s company made this challenge easier.

Soon his work was done and Merlin sheepishly said goodbye to his new acquaintance. The day had been better than expected, and he was starting to get the hang of this. She laughed one last time and replied, “I hope to see you tomorrow again! I live with my father and brother near that little hiding spot of yours. Call me there if you need any help.”

The young man nodded and walked the rest of his way home alone. He even felt confident enough to greet a few people who crossed his way and questioned him with interest.

When he returned to Gaius, he found his guardian both pleased with his work and happy to see him already loosening up. Merlin watched him turn all the herbs he had found into fine medicine during the rest of the afternoon, and then he took comfort in the solitude of video gaming in his small room.

At the end of twilight, while the young man was lying exhausted in his bed, he was in a considerably much better mood, harboring a reassuring amount of confidence. Tomorrow would be an even better day…

\--

When Merlin came knocking on Gwen’s door the next morning to ask for her assistance in his new task, the young man wasn’t expecting to be greeted by such an intimidating yet striking woman as Morgana LeFay.

Her eyes, big and clear and all-seeing, were set on his every movement, her face of moon skin, framed with dark hair, tremendously beautiful. Her lipstick-red lips were stretched in a Cheshire-cat grin, and Merlin had to take a few moments to regain his composure before he could speak up, “I-I’m here for Guinevere, maybe I came to the wrong door?”

But immediately Gwen came into view behind Morgana, and after she had properly and nervously introduced each other, explaining how Morgana had wanted to meet him as soon as she had heard of him, Merlin was allowed to enter, always under her scrutiny.

His work for the day was to deliver several medicine vials to people around the village, people he didn’t know. Guinevere promptly offered her help, and Morgana was coming along with her. During their zigzagging trips all over the place, the three of them would talk, even if Merlin felt much more awkward around the pale woman’s intimidating aura, stuttering and stumbling with an embarrassing frequency.

It wasn’t like he felt attracted to her, however beautiful she was. But the way she had her attention fixed on his every action was incredibly disturbing, especially considering how amused she looked while doing so. And the worst part was that Merlin had no idea who she was. He had noticed that she wore clothes that would fit a much more formal, urban environment than Gwen did, with her beautiful dress and high heels that did not falter even in that uneven ground. He had noticed that people greeted her with respect, almost reverence, but still no clue on why she was so important…

By the end of the day, all the work had been done, and despite everything, the young man felt more at ease in Citadel. People were beginning to start longer conversations with him, and though his sense of humor or of interesting conversational subjects was a little off, he was doing well with it. When Morgana finally excused herself to leave for home, she suddenly held Merlin’s hands and said, most excitedly, “Arthur will love meeting you!” Then she set off without saying another word.

While Merlin himself walked home with Gwen’s company, he was finally told who Morgana was. Apparently she lived in the biggest, central farm of the village, belonging to the Pendragons, caretakers of Citadel and all Camelot. Uther had taken her in as a daughter after her parents died when she was a child, and she was like a sister to Uther’s son, Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin took interest to the name, especially because Morgana seemed so keen on the two of them meeting. However, when he demanded to know more from Gwen, he noticed her blushing and smiling sheepishly, and was afraid of what was to come…

“Arthur is a wonderful person, he’s so good to us all!” she said in a whisper, and Merlin eyed her suspiciously. “I mean… he has looked after the whole of Camelot for so long. It’s good that you’ll be meeting him, believe me!”

The young man pressed her no more for information, suspecting he’d soon know what had made her react like that. When he went to sleep that night, however, he couldn’t help be intrigued by this mysterious, such a benevolent character, wondering if meeting him would be as scary and awkward as Morgana.

Oh, if only he knew…

\--

Seeing that he was improving in his work, Gaius sent Merlin out to both pick herbs and deliver medicine on the next morning. The apothecary praised his progress and seemed pleased to know how Morgana had reacted to him, though the young man couldn’t quite say the same for himself just yet…

“It’s not always we are visited by someone as young and promising as you, my boy,” Gaius said, as if that justified all of her reactions. “It’d be a positive thing if Arthur behaved in a similar way after today…”

So Merlin was clad in baggy jeans (which were comfier for handling the plants) and a dark t-shirt with a lit candle drawn in it, which read ‘Get your balls back’ above it. The idea of meeting the Pendragon son was quite intimidating after all, and he’d need all the encouragement he could get, even if it came in the shape of hints about his favorite horror game.

The young man wolfed down his breakfast with much gusto and said goodbye to his guardian for the day, leaving the house with a reasonable amount of confidence.

He had spent the entire morning taking care of his main tasks, unaided, and didn’t meet Gwen, Morgana, or even Arthur, he guessed, along the way. People had already warmed up to him and he spent time talking to them as he went about his deliveries. He began looking at the villagers’ lives through a different perspective, and as they complained about the many problems that plagued them, the young man admired the strength and resilience that prevented them from giving up. But he still wondered if it was worth it… Citadel hadn’t impressed him so far, maybe it was time for these people to move on…

With time and so many distractions, Merlin almost forgot why he had been nervous at all last night.

But it didn’t last long…

He was already finished with the herb-picking (and all plants were neatly separated and bagged inside his backpack) and he was doing his last delivery. The owner of the house, a small, round woman with a gentle face and a persuasive speech, invited him inside for a slice of pie, which he didn’t refuse, because, boy!, he was hungry…

However, as he took several forkfuls of the treat and shyly complimented the woman in her pie-making prowess, he wasn’t expecting another person to come into view. The other man was about his age and was just as tall, but otherwise he couldn’t be more different from Merlin in appearance.

His hair was short and blonde, but despite being straight like Merlin’s, it looked much tidier and tamer. His azure eyes were assessing even if slightly playful and mischievous, something that his flawlessly white, lopsided grin accentuated to a ridiculous point. There was something almost boyish about him. His body was all muscle developed by years of working outside, which made him sturdy yet graceful, all covered by a layer of skin that the sun had tanned to a dark shade of beige. Unlike Merlin’s, this young man’s clothes were fit to work outside, the plain red t-shirt, dark green shorts and weathered sneakers.

Merlin half recognized the expression in his face as a subtler version of Morgana’s interested grin, and the blonde was indeed as striking as the young woman. Yet before the Merlin could muster any greeting to give the newcomer, he had approached him in long determined strides and was exclaiming in an infinitely amused tone, “Long, spidery limbs, skin as pale as a ghost, amazing cheekbones, lamb-like eyes and remarkably loving large ears… Why, you must be Merlin!”

And Merlin didn’t quite know what to say to this, except that his face blushed all the way to his high cheekbones, and he felt utterly exposed in all his particular imperfections. A spark of anger struck him for the first time since he’d arrived in Camelot, and he frowned deeply as he replied, “Well, now I see why people leave this place: a stranger can’t come in without being thoroughly humiliated by some prat!”

Merlin’s annoyance was only heightened by the stream of laughter he received from the stranger in reply, roaring unashamed laughter that made his body shake and the owner of the house bow her head in shame.

Then the blonde spoke, completely ignoring his outrage, “You know, when Gaius told me he’d have a guest for the summer, I was guessing maybe Geoffrey had come to visit again. The two old-timers really know how to have fun when they’re together, and my father usually joins them so I get the chance to get him off my back. I even came to his house and moved his television upstairs. But I wasn’t expecting it to be… well, you. I don’t know if I should be disappointed.”

So Merlin stood up, hard expression branded with panic and anger, and shouted, “And you know, I really don’t appreciate being treated like a freak around here! I may seem weird and might be different from what you’re used to, but I think I deserve some respect, thank you very much! And I really don’t like that you’re ignoring me!”

At this the other’s laughter fell, even if he held a bizarre expression in his face, observing Merlin thoroughly, as if assessing his t-shirt, the closed fists along his shivering body, his face painted with terror and self-depreciation, yet the will to stand up for himself for once. The owner of the house remained silent. Then a smile was back on the blonde’s face, though it seemed much less mocking and much more… sympathizing.

He said, “Tell Gaius that Piers has called me and that he’ll be coming round tomorrow morning, so he can do your work. You can spend the day with me! You seem to be a bit of an idiot, but at least you can speak up quite well, and I like that. Just go to the Pendragon Farm and tell them that Arthur has invited you…”

With that, and with his grin widening at Merlin’s bewildered expression, Arthur Pendragon left.

Nervous as he was, Merlin soon collapsed back onto the kitchen chair, while the woman next to him was torn between sheer panic and mad laughter. She squeezed his shoulder gently, trying to talk him out of his blank expression of utter mortification.

“Arthur Pendragon…” Merlin mumbled, almost incomprehensibly, “I yelled at Arthur Pendragon, I called him a prat…”

“Well, he didn’t seem to mind it all that much,” the woman tried, and Merlin nodded in agreement. In fact, he had laughed at him. Oh, he was such a prat!

“Master Pendragon is a great boy…” the woman continued, smiling softly now. “Ever since my husband passed away, he comes round to fix the barn or anything else when I need him. He looks after us. He won’t let our country die.”

The young man looked up at her and felt even worse for facing the young Pendragon in such circumstances… He gripped his hair with his hands and said nothing more. He ended up leaving just as catatonic, and Gaius immediately noticed his grim disposition as soon as he entered the house.

After the older man steadied him and made him retell all that had happened, Merlin began fearing his reaction, but to his surprise Gaius began laughing as well.

“Oh, Merlin, you have nothing to worry about!” he reassured him, handing him a steaming cup of tea. “It’s true that someone yelling at Uther’s son was completely unheard of before you, but the fact that he wants to meet you tomorrow is one to be looking forward to. You’ll do fine with him, and it will be an excellent opportunity for you to take a proper look at Citadel. You might discover things you didn’t imagine.”

Merlin nodded and sipped on his tea, already feeling it burning his tongue and throat. But he didn’t feel overly convinced. In fact, the whole meeting with the Pendragon had been an utter disaster. He was expecting someone older than him, looking and acting as formally as Morgana, but instead he turned out to be someone just his age, somewhat childish in his demeanor and his clothing, feeling so… accessible, reachable, charming.

And he managed to get under his skin almost immediately, finding all the things that made him insecure and holding them as if they were little things in his hands, things he was free to play with. He had made him react to all the worries and annoyances he had been harboring and repressing for so long. Now that he felt calmer, he sighed while thinking of the relief he felt as he was shouting red-faced at the blonde, despite the sheer anger boiling inside him.

This was all too overwhelming, his head full of conflicting emotions, and for the first time Merlin was seeing just why he had been so reluctant to be there at all… He was already dreading his meeting with the other man tomorrow…

He lulled in contemplation for the rest of his tea, going over all the possible scenarios in his mind… He should probably begin with an apology, so all his possibilities began like that.

When it became far too late and Merlin’s tea had turned cold, Gaius worriedly ushered him to bed and demanded him to stop thinking.

That night, as he gradually fell asleep, the young man wished he hadn’t grown to be so awkward and alone after all…

\--

The man both Arthur Pendragon and Gaius called Piers arrived early in the morning, a completely hectic aura of joy enveloping him completely. He was much older than he looked, with his long hair painted turquoise and bound in dreadlocks, his face constantly wrinkled in a devil-may-care smile. His clothes were the same bluish color, and so was the bandana wrapped around the top of his head.

Gaius was happy to see him, and the two exchanged greetings and the medicine ingredients Piers had brought from Mercia. Then he assigned him Merlin’s job for the day, for his prowess in herb-finding was almost legendary. After a few minutes Piers was already leaving in the typically hippy van he had arrived in, dream-like, trippy music blasting off the speakers, making a few heads turn as he went.

Merlin was rather impressed with his substitute, but at the moment he seemed to have more pressing worries… Gaius saw him off with encouraging words, and he walked his way to the biggest farm in the village with a lump stuck on his throat. Today’s t-shirt was light blue (reminding him of Piers’s laid-back attitude) and had a drawing of a hooded man and an eagle, the words ‘Nod at the bird and people die’ written in bold, capital letters above it. It gave him the same confidence as the previous one without referencing any genitalia.

He was allowed inside the big farm quite easily, the big doors open even that early in the morning. At the entry hall, wide, cozy and neatly decorated, a maid descended the big staircase and came to greet him with a smile. Merlin, trying to swallow that annoying lump down for the nth time that day, gave Arthur Pendragon and his names and told her he was expected. She said he’d be there right away, and then hurried off.

Indeed, the young man arrived almost immediately. His feet were quick and noisy as he came downstairs, and his appearance was drastically changed from the previous day. Instead of the t-shirt and his shorts, the blonde sported a neat white shirt, a black tie, fitted black pants. Yet there was still a lot of his unnervingly boyish, mischievous side everywhere: in the sleeves that were rolled around his elbows, in the shirt not completely tucked in, the tie slightly askew, the wide grin he was directing at Merlin.

“Ah, you are here!” Arthur Pendragon stated the obvious, making the other roll his eyes. He felt blue eyes looking over him with the same intent, uncomfortable evaluation, and after a while Merlin almost forgot all he had rehearsed for this moment.

His body shook as he let out a long, relaxing breath, telling himself he’d have to hold his ground. He faced the blonde with a furrowed, determined expression, replying, “Yes, I am. And…” he gulped, “I really wanted to apologize for yelling at you yesterday… even if you were a bit of a prat…” He mentally hit himself at the last part.

However, he was still greeted with soft laughter, “You might want to work on those apologies of yours, but I guess it comes with being an idiot. Still, I can find it in myself to forgive you for this minor crime. Now come on, before you try to apologize again…”

Merlin was thankful that the other couldn’t quite hear what he had grumpily muttered under his breath while he followed him. They walked out of the house and into the village with reasonable ease.

Seeing Arthur Pendragon work was quite different from all the tasks Gaius had given him. Merlin quickly realized that when the blonde was clad in his suit he meant important business, which involved going to all the farms, big and small, around the village and getting detailed balance sheets from them. The brunette wasn’t allowed to see these, but the frown on the other man’s face as he looked over them was quite enough to understand just how badly Camelot was doing.

Merlin didn’t do much on this first day; he just kept following the young Pendragon whenever he went. But they rarely remained silent, with the blonde constantly experimenting random topics of conversation with his companion, receiving many and varied reactions from him. They soon understood how little they had in common, with Merlin showing a natural incompetence with anything that involved him moving too much or exposing himself to the sun while Arthur despised and ignored every single comment the other made regarding video games or anything overly intellectual. They only seemed to agree in matters of food, and it seemed that the two of them were generous eaters.

Because of this, their interactions all too often degraded to mutual insulting, mutually harmless, always followed by fits of laughter. And this was comfortable. Nervously comfortable, but still. Merlin didn’t have to hold back and he was somewhat accepted for his weirdness. He could get used to this. Oh, Merlin was right when he thought of Arthur Pendragon as someone somewhat arrogant, and definitively a prat, but at least he had enough good qualities to redeem him.

By the end of the first day, Merlin feared Arthur Pendragon no more.

Merlin found himself joining the other man in his daily routine for several more days, this because Piers stayed in town for that long and would gladly take his responsibilities. The two of them and Gaius would talk over dinner and the young man became even more fascinated with his improbable adventures aboard his van, all over the continent. He pictured all these wild landscapes and odd occurrences and would revel in them, but at the same time he thought it’d be impossible for him to live such a thrilling life, afraid as he was of the big human-filled world out there. This adventure of his at Citadel was the most he could handle… After their meal, Piers would return to his van to sleep, saying that having a ceiling over his head for too long made him feel loopy.

On the second day, Arthur appeared with his boyish clothes again. Once again he dragged Merlin to several farms, but this time the blonde took a more hands-on approach in the matter, visiting the places with barns, coops or other stuff that needed fixing. Unable to do much else, the skinny pale brunette carried hammers and nails and other tools he couldn’t name to Arthur’s side, sometimes tripping over his feet and almost falling, earning the young Pendragon’s mockery. But they still got the job done.

They visited the woman who had fed Merlin pie together again. This time no discussion had broken between them and they earned more pie through hard work, as well as the approval from the farm’s owner on the fact that they had become friends. Arthur smiled gingerly at this, while the other felt slightly flustered with the kindness directed at him.

Later that day the blonde actually tripped over one of the tools Merlin had scattered about, scraping his knee. They yelled at each other for their own very legitimate reasons, and Merlin ended up grumpily taking out a first aid kit from his bag to treat the minor wound. He carried one around ever since he discovered how clumsy he was at herb-picking, hurting the skin of his knees, elbows and hands, stuffing his fingers with thin, poisonous thorns. The two remained silent for a while after the incident, but then they fell into easy dialog once more, completely without remorse.

Sometimes throughout these days, Merlin and Arthur were joined by Guinevere and Morgana during lunch. The two of them appeared out of nowhere and looked utterly delighted at seeing them bond so well, despite the rough start. Morgana especially teased her brother in his quick acceptance of Merlin’s company, something that surprisingly made the pale man more amused than embarrassed. He’d feel his cheeks light up, however, whenever the girls exchanged glances between themselves and seemed to ignore the other two, extremely private and intimate eye-conversations that made him feel like he was somehow prying.

Yet meals in general were a good time to talk more, to feel more like part of Citadel. Whether Merlin and Arthur ate at the tavern, in the ridiculously large kitchen of the Pendragon farm or even in Gaius’s house, there was usually someone there accompanying them, and Merlin would listen to Arthur speak to other people in the village, to Gaius, and even Piers, sinking in the stories of an ancient world. And Merlin had to admit it, even if he wasn’t that impressed or too keen on Camelot, all these stories were endearing to know.

Stranger things happened when they ate alone. Encouraged by their growing companionship, the two young men indulged in further sharing, with Merlin admitting he’d never been to the ocean and he regretted it, with Arthur managing to make him feel all kinds of bizarre as the two of them discovered for how long they have been single. But weirdest of it all was when they were discussing the delicious food they were having and how homemade meals trumped eating out every day, leading to the topic of parents and the thing they had most in common.

In a particularly silent, solemn moment, Arthur told him how his mother had died during childbirth, how difficult it was for his father to deal with the farm, with Camelot, him or Morgana. With a dim smile, he added that because of that his homemade meals had never felt as motherly as Merlin’s certainly had. The brunette, feeling terribly guilty for indirectly bringing up the matter, wanted only to apologize, but at the last moment he did something else entirely.

Merlin didn’t speak much of his own father’s death, for it had shaped his and his mother’s life so thoroughly, filling their little house with hurting silence. But for Arthur he ended up talking about how Balinor came to pass away, the sad repercussions of his death, and he showed (or at least he hoped he did) more than told how well he understood the bittersweet expression on the blonde’s face.

Curious was to see how differently the two young men had dealt with the loss of a parent. Merlin had dug into his little shell, working hard to make it a brighter, much more polished place every day, even if no one could really see this from the outside. On the other hand, Arthur had strived for even more company, finding friends in all the people who lived with him and had always cherished his family, looking out for them the best he could. Arthur mentioned many names, like Leon, or Gawaine, or Percival, who lived on the many villages throughout Camelot, who Merlin imagined were just like Citadel.

But most of all, the loss of his mother made Arthur want to return the region to his parents’ time glory, when he knew Uther and Ygraine Pendragon were completely happy.

As the blonde spoke of it, passion mingling in the tone of his voice, the blue of his eyes, Merlin was profoundly moved by him, and he saw how noble he really was, almost heroic. This disturbed his peace immensely, this fantastic image of this man who would face an entire army to fight for his dreams. The brunette was prepared to believe that there was still hope for Camelot. Arthur managed to push him out of his comfort bubble once again, and Merlin felt terribly alarmed that all he could do was respect him for it, nodding in awe, something exciting and terrifying coiling all around him when he saw the gratitude on the blonde’s face.

The silence that followed when they picked up their forks and knives and resumed eating was ominous but comfortable.

Merlin noticed that from then on they had mutually (and non-verbally) agreed to be friends.

And now whenever Arthur needed to introduce him to someone else, he smoothly draped an arm over his shoulders, and he didn’t mind it at all. In a similar manner, if Merlin found himself too far behind the blonde, he would reach out rather dramatically and would pull the hem of his shirt and made him wait, even if Arthur soon playfully complained of his slowness, to which Merlin always had a quick and witty reply.

Oh, both of them were completely aware of how inappropriate and bold some of Merlin’s comebacks were, with Arthur staring back at him with his eyebrows a wonderful mirror of Gaius’s. But this was how the brunette knew that he too could push the other out of his comfort bubble, and he felt better about his own insecurities as he saw how Arthur embraced all the quirkiness of him so easily.

By the end of their first week together, Merlin had Arthur behaving rather amusedly over lunch, after he’d gone on a long rant about his favorite video game at the time, discussing spatial-lapsing portals with an attention to logical detail that did not quite fit the theme. Shifting wildly on his seat, the blonde’s roaring laughter faded to a smirk, and he coolly leaned over the table to confide some words to this new companion. “I don’t want your head to get even bigger after this, but I think… I think you’re quickly becoming the best friend I’ve ever had, Merlin! Which is weird, because most of the time you talk all kinds of gibberish I wouldn’t even bother with before! But I guess I’ve grown to quite like you…”

At this, Merlin could only admit to himself that, indeed, Arthur was the only person who he could truly consider a friend, and he replied that he returned his feelings. And just because the unmistakably fond look he received in return made him feel so out of his element that he had to catch his breath, Merlin quickly added that yes!, Arthur would have to give a go at Portal someday…

Best friends with Arthur Pendragon. Merlin pondered this in silence as they got back to work, Arthur now conversing about what he’d do if he actually had one of those portal-guns… He contemplated the man before him, so different from himself, so confident, noble yet so startlingly annoying and utterly beautiful, and he wondered if this friendship was really worth all the trouble and emotional turmoil he’d been through in Camelot.

And he was aware he wouldn’t be there forever. Would this frail relationship survive the distance? Even if he got himself one friend like his mother wanted him to, would Arthur still have interest in him when he was gone? Would any of this make a difference in his hollow, dull life?

Merlin walked the narrow streets of a dying world trailing behind what he could only believe was a short-termed best friend, though a true best friend he was. What else was he to expect? But Arthur’s passionate dreams must have somehow infected him, for the brunette looked and could still see a resilient glimmer of hope outlining the blonde, and smiling he decided to hold onto it, scurried forward and pulled the hem of Arthur’s already ruffled white shirt, silently begging him to wait.

As the two walked side by side, Merlin allowed himself to believe in the improbable, the unexpected, the blissful, noting that this was, after all, his own adventure.

\--

The last day they worked together was also one Merlin would never forget. Arthur was doing his usual rounds, collecting balance sheets and dealing with all sorts of paperwork, but he looked even gloomier while facing the new data than usual.

Things had been looking worse with each new day in Camelot, and proof of this was yet another family moving out, young people packing all their things and leaving for a bigger place, a promising city.

This time, however, the blonde looked thoughtfully in Merlin’s direction and seemed to be struggling to make some sort of decision. But before the brunette could do or say anything, Arthur was already handing him the pile of sheets, certainty hard on his face. Apparently someone had already told him of Merlin’s prowess at university and his management course, and the young man would be lying he told he wasn’t really curious about the papers.

So he took them, and as his eyes roamed over the words and the numbers, his expression mirrored Arthur’s worried one.

Things were indeed looking bad for Citadel. Not only the figures were dismaying and desperate, but also the many things both the villagers and the Pendragons were doing weren’t all that effective to solve the matter. Merlin even cringed at some of the many suggestions given to these poor people, wondering who on Earth thought that would work.

Their situation was, quite frankly, hopeless, and Merlin knew he shouldn’t sugarcoat this, so he told Arthur exactly so.

This seemed to be the right thing to do, for the blonde merely nodded gravely and said, “I appreciate your honesty, Merlin, I really do.”

“I’m really sorry, Arthur, but I really don’t know what else I could say…” the other replied, compassionate and apologetic. “From what I saw and what I read here, things haven’t been well for ages, and nothing you’re doing now is really helping… And to be quite honest, I really don’t know what I’d do to fix it… I don’t want to be mean, but… this place isn’t that appealing to anyone wanting to come here. Instead, people are just leaving more and more…”

Arthur faced him again, and seemed to be lingering on something he had said just now. Merlin thought that he had possibly crossed some line he wasn’t supposed to, that he had somehow ruined some delicate part of their new friendship.

This haunted him for the rest of the morning, the silence hanging heavily between them while the blonde seemed to be focusing deeply on some matter or other. Merlin, saddened by the burden of regret, was caving in and giving into the desire to apologize, but Arthur cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth, his smile the usual image of mischief and good-will as he spoke, “You know, you never actually saw the rest of Camelot.”

At this, Merlin felt relieved and laughed heartily, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t. But I really can’t imagine it being any different from this, which proves my point…” he replied, holding up his arms as if pointing to whole of Citadel.

“No…” Arthur agreed, but his mischievous grin did not lessen a bit. “I guess you really can’t imagine it…”

Silence returned, but now it was more welcome, it felt warm, and strangely promising. Merlin observed his friend’s every move for the rest of the day, studying his deeply focused expression without even imagining what went beneath it. They soon parted ways, yet the brunette couldn’t quite know by then that this wouldn’t be the last of Arthur he’d see that night…

\--

Merlin also couldn’t know how his friend had spoken to his father early that evening, facing the beautiful ruin of a man that was Uther Pendragon to ask him for a special favor. Neither could he know how Morgana soon discovered what he was up to and certainly wanted in as well, and Arthur was forced to concede.

What Merlin knew, however, was how the hours seemed to go by and he still couldn’t fall asleep, curious as he was with the blonde’s annoyingly pleasing behavior all day… Lying half-covered on his bed, the young man used the blank ceiling as an imaginary canvas to his thoughts and the possibilities, mentally cursing Arthur for finding yet another way to make him feel so vulnerable…

The imaginary ink smudged and twirled with each new second, and frustrated, Merlin soon decided to give up on all this… This proved to work rather strangely well for him, as promptly a small, bizarre sound crashed against the window of his room…

Scared, the young man got up in a leap and hurried to the side of his window. The frail mechanical lights spilling into the darkness weren’t quite enough to make out the culprit of such a reckless act, but as Merlin threw the window right open, he had a strong suspicion of who this was. He hung his head out, dumbfounded.

“Arthur?!” he half shouted, half whispered into the dead-silent night. “What the heck are you doing here?”

Even in the dim yellow light, the brunette could see the trademark smile on the other’s face. It wasn’t a good omen.

“Shut up, Merlin, and come open the door, will you?” Arthur half yelled half mumbled back.

And Merlin could do nothing more than sigh dramatically and obey. In his nightclothes, going downstairs without triggering a full-blown groaning attack from the old, creaky wooden floor was an epic task, one he surprisingly managed to accomplish. He really didn’t want Gaius to wake up and be confronted with this spectacle of theirs.

He put on the most unimpressed expression he could muster and creaked the front door open, assessing Arthur’s appearance and seeming motivations intently. The blonde waltzed into the kitchen with no further invitation, arms wide open and possessing the air of someone who had all the answers of the universe.

Merlin closed the door behind him and led the both of them to stand by the kitchen table. And only then did the blonde open his mouth to say, “I’ve figured out what you need, you know! I found out what I can do to give you a bigger perspective of Camelot!”

The brunette tilted his head to the side, trying to imagine why Arthur was thinking of this at this time of the night, to the point of bringing him all the way to his doorstep. Still he found that he wanted to humor him, so he asked, “Pray tell what it is!”

Arthur planted his hands on each side of the table, leaning in, facing Merlin. “From what I know, you already took the train to come here… what you don’t know is how far that train really goes, how much more it can show you… And what I came to ask you is… if you’d like to come find it out tomorrow, with us?”

Now this was a weird request… Merlin wondered what had triggered this reaction, this sudden wish to make him want to know more of this fading land, and in his confusion he asked the blonde so. Arthur began pacing around the table, his breath drawn-out and pleading, before he returned to his previous spot and gathered all his thoughts to explain. “Look, we are friends, aren’t we?” he asked. “And earlier today, no one else has been as honest like that to me in a while… I think you are right, I think things have gone too bad for too long… But if I’m even dreaming of fixing this, I’ll need help, and I know you’re good at this, I know you can help me… but are you willing to? Because believe me when I say you still haven’t seen a thing of this place…”

Merlin was utterly astounded by Arthur’s speech, but not so much with what he had said but more with how he said it. Even in the shade, he could see how the blue of his eyes shone with a brand of insecurity, even vulnerability, that made him seem smaller and feeble, that the brunette himself had silently endured for so long. It was unnerving, and completely unlike the heroic face he had seen before, and it made Merlin feel like he was looking after something so fragile, something he’d never want to see breaking.

The young man had been honest when he gave his opinion about Camelot, and even with Arthur’s pleading he quite doubted his point of view would change. But the blonde was right: they had accidentally, almost awkwardly tumbled into a tight friendship, one that felt more real to Merlin that any other in his life. And he deeply felt that he owed this mutual connection of theirs something, and if he had to give it a new train trip, he was willing to. Merlin sighed again, and as he faced the painfully needy face of his friend, his lips curved in a frail smile and he approached him.

“You don’t have to act so desperate, you know?” he almost joked, but there was no humor in his voice. “I’ll go with you in this trip of yours… Just tell me when it is and who these us you were talking about are…”

Arthur looked back up at him, and unlike Merlin’s, his smile was blindingly relieved, happy… The brunette almost regretted disappointing him in the end, when his opinion wouldn’t change a bit… Still, the blonde replied, “Tomorrow? I spoke with my father and convinced him to let me go early in the morning… I think the village can handle the pressure without me for a while… Besides, I do have to collect the others’ papers as well. And I know that Piers will be around for a while, so your work for Gaius will be covered…”

Merlin was a bit at loss, all of this was so sudden! How was he supposed to prepare properly for a long journey through God knows where in just one night? But Arthur seemed to have a proper answer…

“Just bring the stuff you got from Ealdor… Most of the time we’ll be travelling by train, and we’ll have a proper bed and food whenever we stop… And I can’t really tell you exactly where we’ll be going, now can I? You were the one who didn’t know what more Camelot had besides this, and I want it to be a surprise…”

So, knowing he had to be satisfied with this little amount of comfort Arthur’s reply provided, Merlin frowned and asked again, “Alright, be like that… But I can know who is coming with us, now can’t I?”

The other nodded and said, “Morgana heard me speak to father, and she and Gwen kind of wanted in with us… I can’t really blame them for that, to be honest, considering it is summer and where we’re going… They promised they wouldn’t be much of a bother…”

And Merlin didn’t want to be mean and admit it, but the girls’ company might actually give him more comfort and stability in this seemingly emotionally charged trip of theirs. There was something he couldn’t quite place, but he felt that no preparation he could muster in these final, decisive hours before this trip would ever prevent him from climbing completely out of his comfort bubble for the first time. It was a most terrifying emotion, the most delicious promise, but now that Merlin was faced with it, he could not, for the life of him, say no.

So he nodded instead, and leading the other man gently outside, he offered one last reply, “I’ll meet you early tomorrow, then, by your house’s front door. I know you’re not completely familiar with the concept, but I trust you not to disappoint me through this whole trip… Good night, Arthur!”

And the grin on the blonde’s face showed he could almost have hugged him then, as a good-bye, but he didn’t, squeezing his skinny shoulder instead. Merlin watched him leave in fear and awe, the weight of the decision he had just made starting to sink in slowly… He already regretted not finding any reason to regret this decision at all…

\--

Gaius did not remain oblivious to Merlin’s new change of plans for too long, and the young man’s sudden panic attack in the middle of the night might have had everything to do with it.

He had dragged his immense backpack to the middle of his bedroom, and he was all too noisily, all too carelessly throwing in items he believed would be useful to him. It was just a matter of time before his old guardian woke up in a rumpus.

Gaius stepped into his quarters with rumpled pajamas and messy long hair, his eyebrow higher and more judgmental than anytime Merlin had seen it. He assessed the wide eyes, jerky movements and incessant mumbling of the young man with equal parts of patience and concern, and he waited for Merlin to finish his current incomprehensible rant before asking exactly what had happened.

The brunette gave him a fast, desperate report of Arthur’s visit from before. Gaius sighed and sagely guided Merlin to sit by his side on the still-sleepless bed.

“This was exactly what I was expecting when I heard the young Pendragon was interested in meeting you…” the older man confessed with a smile. “It’s a very good thing, and even if you can’t see it right now, it is a huge opportunity to put your gifts to use… Because I have to agree with him this time, you barely know just how vast and how much potential this region has. Raw potential, maybe… but potential nonetheless.”

“But what difference am I supposed to make here when so many generations have tried to save this place and failed… I don’t get it, Gaius… People have been placing too much faith in me, too much faith in this place, and I can’t seem to be able to place the same trust back in all of this. I will go with Arthur and his friends, I will visit this dream world of his, but I’m afraid I will see nothing he sees… I will only bring him further down, and even if he does need a reality check, it just seems too cruel and heartless to give it to him like this. I… I rather care for him, Gaius… I don’t want to hurt him more than he has been already.”

But the older man just sighed, and as he placed a wrinkly hand on his shoulder, Merlin felt like he understood even less of the situation.

“Perhaps the young Pendragon isn’t the one needing a reality check…” he ventured. “You are bright, I admit it, but your mother was right when she spoke to me, you are still so green to the world… Give this trip a chance and try not to worry too much about it. It’s time you finally stepped outside and breathed in the fresh air. Now, if you’re quite done squandering and maiming your belongings, I think I can quite help you pack without spoiling the surprises for you…”

So Merlin eventually accepted this proposal, refilling his bag much more calmly and usefully than before, under Gaius’s knowing guidance. Many items were added that he didn’t quite know where or in which circumstances he’d use them, but the young man decided not to ask more questions for the night.

When he was finally back to bed, he had little less than few hours to sleep, but Merlin did not use them for such ends… He kept thinking of endless train tracks leading to vast plains of more and more dull farms, where people would look up and he could see their guttural yet sincere desire to leave some place better…

He kept thinking of his mother’s worries and of Gaius’s faith, of Arthur’s bittersweet trust and, above all, Kilgharrah’s undying sense of destiny and promise. For a moment, Merlin almost considered Arthur to be that other pair of younger eyes he is to share a whole new vision of Camelot with, but he dismissed the idea almost immediately with a frown.

They were all wrong, Merlin was certain! All crazy for giving him something he would never be comfortable with…

The young man didn’t sleep, and after so many sleepless nights in front of a video game, it really didn’t bother him… But in a waking dream he saw himself running and running and screaming and screaming along emerald fields once again, ineffably free and uncontained. Part of his negative determination faded away with each imagined yell he sang…

\--

Their first day of adventure didn’t go exactly according to plan right from the beginning… Merlin left without having a bite for breakfast, saying his goodbyes to Gaius in a hurried, distracted sprint. Carrying his relatively heavy backpack outside, the boy wore his regular skinny jeans and a black t-shirt with a big white cube printed on it, a small red heart in the middle. For good luck, he told himself. He surely needed a most trusted companion right now.

He walked the claustrophobic streets of Citadel through the break of dawn, and it was so early that no one else was around to see him go on and about. He passed by Piers’s still hermetically closed van, and next to the tavern and the village center, and soon the imposing Pendragon farm came into view.

Wonderful, he noted, he was the last one to arrive… Upon closer inspection he could see how Guinevere and Morgana looked even more zombified than he did, and how Arthur paced to and fro half excited, half expectant. The nervously expectant part of him seemed to vanish as soon as Merlin crossed his path.

“G-good morning…” the brunette waved and rubbed his eyes, a yawn escaping him in mid-greeting. “Don’t we all look lively today…”

He was met with mumbling and vague gestures from the girls, but Arthur merely came closer to him, studied his sleepless face intently, and before they started walking away, he squeezed his shoulder in silent gratefulness.

At least Merlin couldn’t complain much about that…

The small group walked away with no further ado, through a path Merlin supposed would take them to the train station. But apparently someone had forgotten to tell him about an important detail for the day’s journey, though he was promptly filled in on that part…

“Huh, you know we’ll be heading to the Outer Circle by foot, don’t you, Merlin?” Gwen’s voice yawned behind him, and he didn’t know exactly what to reply to that. “There is a train there, but this way we can all meet Gawaine and start the trip properly right away.”

From the dumbfounded expression Merlin was certain to be giving his companions, he assumed they’d know how informed he was. He caught sight of Arthur’s subtle gesture of guilt and forgetfulness at the corner of his eye, and on that moment all he wanted to do was explode.

But what was he expecting, really? A sound trip with no minor incidents to make him feel more awkward and out-of-place? No. This was how it began, and this would be how he’d take it, and so he merely followed the  
others out of the village, hungry, tired and weak in every muscle of his…

And he was almost glad with the path they were taking, until the small rural street opened into a tall, thick forest, which made him unable to see much of his surroundings and painted the fresh, morning air around him with a sticky shade of green. Birds chirped all too cheerfully for his taste, too high pitched for his aching head. This was just getting better and better…

He trailed behind his friends for the rest of the morning, removing a big packet of cookies from his bag so he could have a much needed, much belated breakfast. While Merlin tripped over tree-roots and rocks, spilling crumbs and perfectly good pieces of cookie everywhere, the others trekked flawlessly over the grassy forest bed, clad in appropriate clothing and carrying their own backpacks masterfully. From what the young man gathered, this way would lead them to the outskirts of the village closest to Citadel, Outer Circle, and this was where they were to meet this Gawaine of theirs.

There wasn’t much conversation between any of them, mostly because Merlin could see how apprehensive Arthur still looked all the time. Morgana remained as silent and watchful as ever, her big, clear eyes studying the two boys with intent care. On the other hand, Guinevere move further and faster now that she was fully awaken, enjoying this beginning of their trip more than all others.

They ended up meeting Gawaine a few hours later, and the first impression Merlin had of him was of a humanoid faun, some undercover faery completely at home in this element. The young man, slightly older than them and sporting a hairdo that offended everything with its sheer perfection, wore a blinding, devil-may-care smile that made Merlin almost forget about all the inconveniences that had crossed him that day, framed by a full face dusted with a thin yet handsome beard. A small dandelion dangled evermore from his grinning lips and, like Arthur, he walked around in his thin t-shirt and sturdy summer shorts.

He walked forward from his spot leaning against a big tree and gingerly pulled the blonde into a tight embrace. Merlin might have actually liked this man if he hadn’t turned to him right away and greeted him with a mocking tone, “Where the hell have you tripped over this twig, Arthur? Poor thing must have taken the wrong turn…”

The girls responded in laughter, and so did the blonde, but his sounded more nervous. Merlin didn’t spare any effort to hide his frown. But Gawaine kindly patted his back anyway, and immediately they went on with their way.

And the day only went downhill from there (but not their path, which kept going straight uphill).

The freshness of morning quickly melted to a full-blown hot summer afternoon, and Merlin promptly broke into a constant, uncomfortable sweat. It didn’t help that the forest gradually climbed up and became wider and wetter, countless water streams crossing the grassy dirt, pooling in increasingly bigger puddles, increasingly stronger rivers.

Traces of the Outer Circle began appearing all around, with its farms half-hidden in the trees. Merlin couldn’t quite tell how this place was any better than Citadel, because everyone was walking so fast and he was stuck behind, oblivious to all conversations. He was mildly aware of being properly introduced to Gawaine, who looked from him to Arthur with a knowing smile, all too disturbing to him. But he really didn’t know what he was expected to do here… and no one seemed particularly willing to explain it to him either.

As they passed by more farms, the strangers eyed this stranger and Merlin felt exposed and non-belonging all over again. Cows and other messy animals paraded carelessly among the group of friends, messing up the brunette’s rhythm, and everyone seemed so happy to see their beloved Arthur and dearest Morgana, while Merlin always showed up far too late to receive any recognition or praise.

And then he began slipping on the animals’ dung. It was sudden and humiliating on the first time, and it only got progressively worse with each new slip. He disguised and fixed it the best he could, but as time went by, both his patience and sanity were steadily spilling to an end. And no one was really there to help him.

Perhaps if Merlin was better at walking this kind of paths he would have seen how the midday sun changed the shades of the trees to towering green pinnacles, casting soft emerald reflections upon the hurried water beneath his feet. Maybe he would have noticed how the calmer cows actually stared right through his frustrated expression and bawled compassionately against his tired back. He’d probably look from the top of the hill and catch even if but a tiny glimpse of something he’d never witnessed before, something he might not have expected and might have left him slightly breathless…

But as it was Merlin carried on with his path, hating every inch of the beginning of this journey, the cows, the farms, the forest, and the ridiculous little dandelion dangling from Gawaine’s mouth. He even found himself loathing the crystal-clear ring of Arthur’s easy laughter, as he almost began crying after climbing the last few feet till they reached the village center.

When they finally arrived and Merlin could see the full extent of Outer Circle, he found it so similar to Citadel that he wanted to yell at all his wasted effort. But all around him his new friends looked and sounded so excited, and for the first time since the beginning of that dreadful day, Arthur came to almost pick him up by the scruff of his filthy t-shirt, and as he talked to an old man who seemed to be all too pleased to have the blonde here, he dragged them all to his house.

At least he welcomed lunch with much gusto. And now that he was a little more fit inside his element, Merlin could start understanding what was going on…

This was Gawaine’s house, apparently, and the old man was his father, discussing much serious matters with Arthur about the state of the village. Gawaine himself seemed to be much more interested in him, scanning the way he downed mouthfuls of plentiful food with curiosity and amusement. The kitchen where they were seated was big and open, and people flowed in and out, talking all along. Merlin imagined that the Pendragon kitchen was just like this on busy days, and he almost missed his quiet meals with Arthur at the moment…

But right now the blonde was busily frowning at Gawaine’s father’s words, and as the older man handed him a stack of papers over the table (carefully, not to stain them with grease or wine), the brunette noticed that indeed, Camelot was all the same, all equally troubled.

“And I don’t know if you really noticed it, Arthur…” the man carried on, his voice rough and worried, “but there aren’t nearly enough people to prepare the festival by the end of the summer… I take it you’ll still be around by then?”

The blonde idly read the papers and nodded, slowly finishing his meal. He replied calmly, showing a tired smile, and Merlin was completely caught by surprise when he saw him direct the same papers to himself. As the other two went on with their conversation, the brunette used his time to subtly learn more about this place, reading quite worriedly what was before his eyes.

Merlin saw Arthur shoot small glances in his direction, and for the first time he felt the hurt of knowing how he was going to break the frail hope dwelling in those blue eyes. Like he was expecting, even the problems and the chosen strategies to solve them were the same here as they were in Citadel, and so was his hopeless opinion of the place’s recovery. Merlin shook his head in reply to the other, and Arthur received it with a short yet pained nod. There was nothing else he could say or do, and the blonde removed the stash of papers from him once again.

The rest of the afternoon wasn’t as straining as before, but it was equally dismaying for Merlin. Some people began sensing that he was there as more than just the Citadel’s kids follower, though they couldn’t quite place a city boy like him. Going around Outer Circle only earned him more reasons to disagree with Arthur’s motivations, which only made him feel further from the group with each moment.

At least Morgana and Gwen were having fun! They seemed to be used to this place and its customs, and people came from many houses to greet these missed-for-too-long friends. Merlin noticed how their hands and fingers would entwine as they walked sometimes, almost imperceptible, and this made him blush ridiculously whenever he caught himself staring for too long. But they didn’t seem to mind, offering witty and warm jesting words when they crossed his path, or when Arthur was far too occupied with Gawaine and his family.

When the sun was setting, the group was dragged back to the forest, the mud and the dung again, so that they could see how everything was being prepared for something big at the end of the summer. Gawaine was particularly proud of a big rock that stood there with a hole in the middle, which could snuggly contain two embracing people. Apparently it was part of some important pagan ritual done by the people of Camelot long ago, not likely to repeat itself, but pretty to witness nonetheless. The train tracks crossed the land a few miles away, the clean metal glistening with the last traces of sunlight.

And the first day of their trip passed like this, and even when Merlin wasn’t making a complete fool of himself, he wasn’t really seeing much in this place besides a small quaint haven counting its last living days. Back to the bigger farm, the people lit a wide fireplace and Gawaine and his guests sat around it, exchanging childhood stories, with them and other friends spread all over the region. There was some effort to include Merlin in these conversations, but he wasn’t really playing much attention anyway. His eyes were fixed on the bright, warm fire, focus placed somewhere beyond the fabric of waking reality. He could hear voices and pleasant words all around him, missing him by just a bit, but he slowly retreated to a haven of his own, where all was dark, and silent, and safe.

The cool air of the night lulled him to an early lethargy, and because he saw no use in prolonging the night any longer, he abruptly excused himself and headed to his shared room with Arthur. The blonde himself followed his movements discreetly with lowered eyes, but besides the muttered goodbyes he shared with the girls and Gawaine, he posed no objection to his departure.

In this room Merlin found the rest he needed. He felt smelly, dirty, wet, and after a long shower in a bathroom that actually matched the ones in the city in modernity, he finally allowed himself to relax properly. He then threw his pathetic clothes far down his backpack and slipped into a decently-sized bed. The other one, Arthur’s, was right opposite from him, and in a final effort to close himself from the world, Merlin turned his back on it.

He heaved out a long sigh. For a moment he imagined how outside people went on with their night, undisturbed, forgetful of his presence. He imagined the dull pain of these people sharing worries of something that seemed too good to end, but ending it was anyway. Merlin didn’t belong, could not relate, knew not how to help, even if he felt he should. As he slowly faded to sleep, he imagined himself back in Ealdor, blanket tucked snuggly around him, bony hands bringing the console controller and some random game to life till the early hours of the morning. He half-smiled into such a mundane fantasy, letting its repercussions ride him to dreamland.

Merlin felt as lonely as in the first day in Camelot, and he assumed the rest of the trip would follow similarly to this. He almost didn’t notice it, but Arthur entered the room not too long after, and he subtly whispered a few words to his slumbering, quiet frame.

“So, isn’t everything better than you thought, Merlin? Do you see what I mean now?”

But no, the blonde was only met with half-meant silence, cold and distant. Even if Merlin was way past seeing or hearing anything by now, he knew that Arthur must have seen the messy state of his clothes and shoes, must have deduced that not everything was alright with him.

After a while, Merlin heard a sigh and a gentle creak behind him: the other must have sat on his own bed. And he wasn’t sure if he was already asleep or still awake when the next thing happened, but he was sure to hear words, saddened and disappointed, “You didn’t have fun, did you? I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow…”

But by then everything was already dark.

\--

 _“A 60 ton angel falls to the Earth,  
A pile of old metal, a radiant blur,  
Scars in the country, the summer and her…_

 _Always the summers are slipping away…  
Find me a way for making it stay…”_

\--

One thing about mornings is that you never know where exactly you’ll be when you wake up. You might just slip from the story of your dream into a much solid version of that, becoming someone else entirely, motivated by thoroughly different purposes. This new life you take can be everything that you’ve ever wanted, or all the things you wished you could have avoided.

In that sole moment of nothingness, the possibilities cover every scenario, and it seems so simple to just reach out a hand and pick which one you want to try today.

But for Merlin there were no changing entities that morning. Yet the night had passed and with it most of his foul mood. This new day was something to be hopeful about.

With heavy eyelids and a yawning mouth, the young man turned to see the first rays of sunlight filter through the window, and Arthur still deeply asleep. He got out of bed almost soundlessly (almost, because every wrong move someone awkward makes is as loud as a single metallic tray falling on an uneven stone floor), and just as silently he got in a new set of clothing, clean, fresh, and smelling of new opportunities.

Soon enough, Merlin was stumbling out of the room, roaming into the empty kitchen. He nearly got lost on his way there, but even his delays were worth it, for now that he was rid of his annoyance and lack of hygiene, he could somewhat appreciate the beauty of a pink, dawning country sky, startlingly transparent to the light flowing through it. Luckily for him, the kitchen was much alike to the Pendragons’ and no one was around to reprehend him if he was acting inappropriately.

With some speed and minor obstacles, Merlin was able to prepare a warm loaf of bread with freshly churned butter, and a mug of milk that still had cream on it and numbed his mouth with its sour flavor, but still tasted more real and intense than anything he’d had for a while. The young man was solemnly enjoying his breakfast, mulling over his expectations for the day as he chewed noisily on his bread, when he noticed he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Lazy, dragged steps echoed closer, and soon Merlin was faced with a rather disarrayed Gawaine, bedhair still fit enough for a professional photoshoot, another little flower already dangling from his lips. Merlin wondered where he got those, and had to stop himself from asking that out loud when he greeted him with a wide grin and a noncommittal grunting sound.

“Good food, isn’t it?” Gawaine asked in his turn, his fingers deftly working with the tap of a nearby keg, filling a generous mug with a partly clear, partly golden liquid, then downing it in one go. Merlin was both shocked and impressed. “You left so early yesterday. You missed the best part. But then again so did Arthur.”

“I… I was tired. I’m not used to walking for so long, and you really didn’t help there…” Merlin replied all too bitterly. He heard the other laugh clearly, and then at the sound of his mug landing on the surface of the table, the young man couldn’t help but stare, a bit too judgmental. This provoked a reaction.

“What? I know it’s beer, and it’s still early in the morning, but I am responsible for controlling the flavor. And it really isn’t that alcoholic at this point of the process…” Gawaine explained, looking more amused than offended. “Do you want to try it out?” he added then, in a most mocking tone of voice.

Merlin promptly shook his head and carried on with his breakfast, but he had a deeply grumpy look on his face. The other young man laughed and shook it off, “Ah, I’m just messing with you! You really shouldn’t take everything too seriously, you know? Including all your drama with walking all the way here. You might not notice this, but Arthur has really given a lot to this trip of yours, and the main reason for that is you.”

“I find that hard to believe…” was Merlin’s immediate bitter reply, “and I really have nothing to do with it, it wasn’t my idea to do all this… I’m… I’m really not very comfortable here.”

But Gawaine’s smile didn’t lessen one bit. He held the mug with both hands, and before he left, he offered Merlin a final reply, “We’ll talk at the end of your adventure. You haven’t seen a thing, and after what you just said, I am reassured you really didn’t see a thing from here yesterday. Try to have more fun today.”

And then Merlin was alone again. Alone, and still pondering.

But fortunately for him, his bad humor wasn’t to last long… True, he still had to wait a few hours before the rest of his group woke up, Arthur looking just as somber as him and the girls feeling slightly woozy from Outer Circle’s finest wine, but as soon as they were all well fed and packed, it was time to say goodbye to the village and carry on. Gawaine promised to have his part ready by the end of the summer, whatever that meant.

And this time they would actually ride the train, Merlin was told.

They made their way to the nearest station still carrying the silence of slumber, but while Morgana and Gwen looked more cheerful, engaging the brunette in lazy yet pleasant conversation, Arthur was almost frowning, the brain beneath that blonde head seemingly boiling in deep thought. Merlin risked a few glances at him every once in a while, but dared not ask what was wrong. He felt a bit ashamed that he was being so petty, but he was still upset about the previous day.

The group passed by the embrace rock once again, walking along the train tracks till they reached the station. There was no one else there but a middle-aged woman carrying a big basket of many different vegetables, and she recognized Arthur, and the two talked passionately – the blonde behaving most professionally – as they waited for the train to come.

When it did come, Merlin was, as usual, not very impressed… The whole vehicle, primarily red and then maroon in spots due to the growing rust, dragged itself slowly into the station, the wheels whining profusely, the steam bellowing into the sky as the driver released it in a large cloud. It didn’t have many wagons, but then again not many were needed, and the whole structure coughed sickly, threatening to swoon and faint at any given moment.

In big, bold, capital and white letters, the words ‘CAMELOT EXPRESS’ were imprinted at the front of the locomotive, some parts already peeled off.

Merlin wasn’t impressed, and was even a little reluctant to climb aboard. But his friends didn’t hesitate for a bit, and the young man found himself following them with a sigh.

The train was just as dubious-looking from the inside. The wagons were narrow and rusty, and each compartment was linked to the main corridor through glass doors that whined as they were slid to the side. Each side of the compartment had a long couch where several people could be seated, some closer to the big, greasy window than others, but their cushions were shabby-looking, some of them losing their stuffing through the ripped seams.

Arthur had chosen a compartment in the middle wagon, and the others followed him in. The blonde sat by the window, and Morgana was going to mimic him on the opposite side when her brother stopped her, saying, “No. Let Merlin sit there.”

He hadn’t spoken a word to him all morning, but the intent tone of Arthur’s voice aligned to the sheer determination of his face as Merlin looked at him, questioning, was enough to have the brunette intrigued, and willing to give his friend a chance for compensation. Merlin sat opposite the blonde, who had now turned to stare at the window, frowning, and his eyes lingered on him, hoping for him to continue talking, till he gave up and looked out the window as well.

In silence, both Morgana and Gwen sat beside Merlin, but their expressions were of teasing amusement as they exchanged glances. Merlin ignored them.

The woman who had been carrying the basket of vegetables walked past their compartment, her face a grimace from the effort, and as soon as she was gone again, a new bellow of steam from afar told them the train had revived.

With a screeching sound and long, thorough pull, the world began rumbling and moving.

Merlin watched the station slide sideways away from them through the window, and gulped down in anxiety and anticipation from what was coming next.

Soon enough the background shifted to the familiar forest, and the train continued its motions with just minor whining and rumbling here and there. The group of friends remained silent during the first minutes of their journey, the tension palpable especially between the two young men. But the tension only lasts as long the first sensible person allows it to, and after growing impatient with the childish look of stubbornness on both Merlin and Arthur, Morgana sighed and decided to get started on a common topic of conversation. Gwen was quick to adhere to this, and it only took a few replies between them for the boys to stray their obstinate attention from the window and back to each other.

In a few minutes’ time, it felt as if the previous day hadn’t happened at all.

The four of them laughed at the many bold comparisons Merlin began to make about the train they were on, even if the others tried to defend the poor old machine the best they could. Feeling encouraged, the brunette proceeded to tell them how it surely needed some renovation, from the ghastly rust to the decaying cushions, and without even noticing this himself, the suggestions he gave were actually quite constructive and helpful. The image they created inside Merlin’s head was strangely pleasant: of an imaginary an epic trip inside this renovated giant of awesome transportation, roaring and bellowing proudly as it shone with a profound blood red, sprinting by. He caught Arthur smiling peculiarly at him, as if this was some behavior he hadn’t expected but had been hoping for nonetheless. Merlin wondered with some amusement if his friend was taking mental notes.

After a while they all grew hungry again, and after Arthur scurried off to “borrow” a convertible table from an off-limit room, they all threw their food together and assembled a feast of sorts. It was with some pleasure that Merlin saw a lot of unknown, Outer Circle food added to it, mostly cheese and yogurt, and even some “borrowed” wine, and it all tasted amazing. His opinion on the village surely improved with this.

Once their stomachs were properly sated, the group went back to their previous lethargy, even if now they sported comfortable smiles in their expressions. Morgana and Gwen fell to a light nap, their heads resting on each other’s shoulders, but Arthur and Merlin were still wide awake, even if they had silently turned to the window once more, the comfortable, rhythmic clinking of the train sliding along the rails quite a wonderful background.

The brunette saw with some curiosity how the dense forest had begun to sparse, how some big, even if degraded houses started appearing between the trees here and there. Longing for a bit of fresh air, Merlin held onto the window with both hands, his face a grimace as he slid it open. A steady gush of wind washed over pale face and he took a deep breath. There was something in the air that gave it a scent he had never experienced, yet it made his heart feel bigger, fuller… There must have been a change to his expression, for Arthur was now chuckling amusedly at him. Merlin didn’t seem to mind, merely sticking his tongue out at him in return.

However, the curiosity about this abandoned homes still remained, and he decided to ask the young Pendragon about them…

“Oh, those are old farms, Merlin,” he promptly explained, frowning once more. “They were the first to be abandoned when Camelot began to decay… There are no villages here, and it was more difficult for these people to make ends meet. And the closer we get to where we’re going, the sadder it’ll be.”

Merlin nodded gravely and watching this scenery of wild abandonment before him, the breeze sweeping across his already messy hair and making him narrow his eyes. He felt a bit guilty from the lack of compassion he had towards these places, but the region still remained unimpressive to him. The effect this seemed to have on Arthur was particularly painful, but there was nothing the brunette could do about this without betraying his own beliefs.

He sighed, settling back on the flat cushion of his seat, a hazy mist of idle reverie coming over him for the next few hours.

However, the peculiar scent Merlin picked in the air before only seemed to increase in intensity as they moved on. Opposite from him, Arthur caught him sniffling from time to time, and the blonde was unable to hide the blatantly mischievous grin that came as his reaction. This puzzled the brunette even more, but some kind of twisted pride didn’t allow him to ask the other any questions, sure that the answer would reveal itself to him soon enough…

And, oh, it did.

Soon enough the forest and the mountains fell away, and the horizon stretched itself lazily across the distance, as far as the eye could see. And this horizon was blue in color, sometimes indistinguishable from the azure sky itself, and even from afar Merlin could smell the tons of salt it contained, could hear the sound of thousands of gentle waves crashing upon themselves. His face lit up with an awed, unbelieving expression. Merlin was seeing the ocean for the very first time in his life.

The involuntary sound he made promptly woke both Gwen and Morgana up, who weren’t quite as eager as his unrestrained excitement. Arthur merely replied to this with unabashed laughter, which made Merlin turn almost accusingly on him, even if his bright smile showed fondness and gratefulness, “You! You didn’t say anything about an ocean in Camelot!”

“And spoil the surprise for you?” the blonde replied in kind, mirroring his smile, “Now I dare you to say this place is nothing special…”

And at this Merlin did have to concede, for Camelot’s shoreline only got more impressive as the train lunged forward. Be it rocky ravines or pale, sandy and deserted beaches, the sea met the earth in a beautiful manner, and more than ever all these abandoned farms showed up, haunting and pitiful in their decay.

“You wouldn’t believe how beautiful the horses raised here were, Merlin...” Gwen now spoke, enlightening him on what kind of farms these were. The same crestfallen look lingered in her expression now, but the brunette couldn’t detect the passionate hope he knew still was in Arthur’s eyes. Only hopeless dismay. “And small, cozy inns. Loads of people came here to spend their summers…”

“Hey, don’t speak in past tense, Gwen!” was all Morgana could add, poking the other girl on her shoulder playfully. “We’re meeting Leon now. Merlin will see at least a glimpse of that!”

And these promises made him quite eager to finally get to their next stop soon. In some way, this new, exciting experience, an adventure almost!, seemed to render his anxiety moot, and this was a very, very pleasant and new feeling. Merlin still didn’t want to see how his view towards Camelot had changed already, or how this could affect his hope towards the place, but for now he was unrestrained in his joy.

For now, meeting Leon and this part of the region felt promising, and as Merlin turned to look at Arthur with a naked grin on his face, the young Pendragon’s replying smile assured him everything would be just amazing.

\---

For one, Leon seemed to be more timid than Gawaine, which meant he didn’t begin his introduction to Merlin by pointing out the odd details of his scrawny anatomy. The young man was quite tall, taller than him or Arthur, and as elegantly toned as the latter. Dark golden hair fell in curls to his shoulders, he sported a well-groomed beard, and his clear eyes looked eternally concerned and loyal as he came to greet his old friends.

Both Gwen and Morgana were very trilled to see him again, and he held them in turn with much tenderness, laughter flowing from the three of them in happy gushes. Arthur also hugged him with much enthusiasm, and Merlin thought he could see the same pained expression he’d seen in the blonde in this man’s eyes, and he thought he could feel how the two of them have struggled so much in the past, especially with dying Camelot around them.

Leon greeted him with a shy handshake and a sheepish even if charming smile, and Merlin found himself liking this friend of theirs right away.

“Merlin, right? You can’t imagine how wonderful it is to see a foreigner here! Also, Arthur told me this is the first time you’ve been to the sea?” he asked, his words quick, almost urgent.

Merlin glanced sideways at Arthur, hoping that he caught his narrow-eyed expression, but the blonde seemed to have picked a keen interest on the sandy ground beneath his feet. Turning back to Leon, Merlin grinned and nodded.

“Yes, to both!” he replied.

“Well, then I think you’ll find your stay here most enjoyable…” Leon said, and after that he was silent.

With no further ado, the group began heading away from the train station, away from the last remnants of thick shrubbery and into a world of sand, salty wind, and the ominous music of tall ocean waves. Merlin felt clumsy, with his feet digging into the sand, making him trip, and his backpack dragging him behind the others, but for once he didn’t care about these minor setbacks… He could see the ocean melt into the sand in a line of foam, and he soon noticed a group of graceful creatures idly stomping on the sand with their hooves as they waited.

“They were so eager to come out for a walk…” Leon mumbled, sounding needlessly sheepish. “I couldn’t resist, and I thought it’d give your journey a nice touch…”

Gwen was quite right, these were beautiful horses, and there were five of them. Merlin stood half wondering how Leon had brought them here on his own, half marveling at their simple yet mesmerizing movements. One was white, with grey spots along her belly, and a long, frizzy fringe falling across her droopy face. This was Leon’s mare, for she whinnied gleefully as he pressed his forehead to hers.

Two other mares, pure black in color, responded immediately to Gwen and Morgana, their long nose sprinkled with many white dots, resembling freckles. Both girls were as apt at riding them as Leon had been, which made Merlin a little nervous, for he had never ridden a horse…

Arthur’s mare, a beautiful creature of a light brown color, with a golden mane and a long white stripe across her forehead, headed towards him with much joy, and Merlin inwardly giggled as he imagined a fitting name for her: Epona. The blonde Pendragon sure looked like Link to him…

However, when the turn came for Merlin to approach his own horse, a male of a slightly darker shade than “Epona’s”, his anxiety hit him again, and he merely took a few steps forward, standing there unknowing of what to do next…

Thankfully, Arthur was soon aware of his predicament, and he chuckled as he joined the brunette, holding onto the horse’s reins while he instructed Merlin on how to climb onto the saddle. The young man was blushing deeply, and it was a herculean feat for his skinny arms to hoist him onto the poor creature’s back, but once he was done, Arthur nodded in approval and mounted “Epona” with shameless ease. He grinned wide at Merlin, who replied with a roll of his eyes and a muttered “prat…”.

Once they were all set, Leon guided them along the shoreline, pointing forward as he explained to Merlin, “Our inn is just beyond the horizon, not in the beach, but in the forest. We’ll leave our stuff there, and then we can all go swimming!”

This seemed to be a very good plan to everyone, and the group steadily trotted their way forward. Merlin was doing fairly well, considering how this was his first time riding a horse. He was perfectly amiable and careful in carrying him, and even if this was quite different from the safety of horse-riding through video games, it was also more pleasant in a strange way. One hand holding the reins, Merlin let the other roam over the swaying light mane along the horse’s spine, grinning at the softness, at the blatant excitement of this adventure.

He looked around and could see that the others shared this feeling with him, and this time the foreigner felt completely accepted, almost at home.

Soon the line of the horizon revealed a small forest next to the beach and a building nested among the stone pines, and they headed towards it. Leon’s mare whinnied out loud as they approached a cozy looking wooden farm, receiving an array of softer whinnies in reply. They rode to the stables, and Merlin was equally awkward while dismounting his horse, even if he was able to do it with no assistance. The other horses greeting their group were just as beautiful.

Under the emerald shade of the tall, umbrella-like trees, the group made their way to the inn’s entrance, where Leon’s grandparents greeted them all with great kindness. The couple was as polite and timid as Leon, and Merlin knew he’d like them quite a lot too. The girls and boys carried their backpacks up the wooden stairs, soft red carpet muffling their steps, and once again Arthur would share a bedroom with him. They entered it together and Merlin was very pleased with what he found. This might have been an inn, but there was a homey feeling everywhere, and the young man was delighted to see that if he opened the window, he could see the ocean and smell its salt.

“This is my bed!” he claimed, dumping his backpack on the bed right beside the window. Arthur almost complained about him being the one who set the rules, but he conceded.

They took a while getting to their swimming attires, with Merlin finally finding use to one of the swimming trunks Gaius had packed before. Not quite ready to expose his pasty, twiggy body to the well-sculpted Arthur, the brunette used the bathroom for some privacy, and he examined his pale skin before the mirror, trying to remember when was the last time he’d laid his body bare for other people to see. A long time ago, he concluded…

He shyly exited to the bedroom to see it vacant, and as soon as he stepped into the corridor, he found everyone else there. And indeed, everyone else looked more attractive than him with their skin bare: even Morgana, as strikingly pale as he was, looked much healthier than his grayish skin tone.

In any case, this small matter didn’t ruin his fun at all, and it didn’t seem to affect the others either, and it was all forgotten as soon as his bare feet threaded across the warm, fine sand. Merlin watched the others running to the rumbling water, shrieking from the cold as soon as they dived in, and he sheepishly remained at the edge of it, tiptoeing along the shallow end and the wet, clumpy sand as he skirted around the incoming freezing waves washing over his bony ankles.

“Come on, Merlin!” Arthur half-bellowed, half-laughed from the water, arm raised in the air, beckoning him, his golden hair matted to his forehead. “It’s just a dive, and then it’s all over!”

Looking proud, the brunette decided he could accept this challenge, and so he promptly did as advised, taking a deep, deep breath and sprinting into an incoming wave, the cold water splashing him everywhere, before enveloping him completely and then raising him back to the surface.

Merlin cried out loud, his skin crawling all over his flesh with the shock of cold, but it soon turned into loud laughter, and everyone else was applauding him after this. Grinning wide, he began awkwardly padding along, dark hair almost covering his eyes, the taste of salt not as pleasant as its scent, but once more undisturbed by these minor setbacks.

“It feels great, doesn’t it, Merlin?” Gwen laughed, long curls splayed all around her, looking quite adorable in her navy two-piece swimming suit. “I bet you can’t find anything quite like this in the city!”

And with that he had to agree. He stayed in the water for several minutes, this until a wave swept him off to the distance and he panicked. Arthur and Leon had to go fetch him and bring him back to safety, but even through the terror of the water carrying him away Merlin was smiling. Arthur unceremoniously dumped a fluffy towel on his sitting body, trembling as it hungrily sought for warmth. The blonde was frowning, and shook his head vehemently as Merlin grinned up at him.

“You, Merlin, are clearly an idiot…” he muttered, but he eventually melted under the other’s unchanging expression, letting out a lone chuckle and unable to mask a small smile. “You’re grounded. Literally! Now go catch seashells or something ridiculous like that…”

And with that he returned to the water. And because Merlin didn’t dare disobey Prince Pendragon, he got up after drying himself off, finding a decent sized bucket and trailing the shoreline once more.

In just about half an hour, he had the bucket filled to the brim with all kinds of marvels. The rest of the group joined him little afterwards, with Arthur teasing him for being such a good boy while the others contained their snickering. Merlin just laughed at this, and made Arthur carry the heavy bucket for him.

All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon, and Merlin stopped his collecting as soon as the sun touched the ocean across the far horizon. The young man sat on the sand again, surveying his loot with careful hands, bringing a shell out at a time to see the orange and red sunset light skimming beautifully across their smooth surface, sometimes bound in spirals, sometimes not. Morgana helped him choose the prettiest as souvenirs, and the others were called by Leon’s grandparents, who suggested they’d all dine outside.

As twilight began and stretched over time, all five of them were carrying a heavy wooden table, chairs, plates and cutlery to the beach, setting them there. The older couple stuck lit torches in the sand around the table and brought the food out, the fish and the vegetables smelling wonderfully as they mingled with the salty air. Merlin took in all this with great awe, his shameless grin unmissed by all those around him.

When the sun’s copper head was finally beyond the horizon, they were all called for dinner. A chilly breeze swept in and Merlin rushed to his room to get a jacket before eating. Everything was divine, including the company. He ate everything on his plate with the enthusiasm of a wolf, and Leon’s grandfather merely laughed and refilled it after that, to which he didn’t complain.

“So, I heard you took a liking to swimming, Merlin?” Leon’s grandmother asked, her face kind. “Almost too much of a liking, from what Leon tells me.”

Merlin, his mouth full, swallowed hard and blushed, under everyone’s giggles. “I won’t lie, I did,” he replied, giggling too.

“That’s good to know. Not too many people come here anymore, unfortunately. Make sure to tell all your friends about it when you go back home…”

The brunette almost replied that he really had no friends to speak about this place, but instead he frowned and stated, “I know things have been difficult for you. I… I saw many abandoned houses on the way. Arthur told me they were places like this.”

“Arthur is right…” Leon’s grandfather nodded and admitted. “There’s only two horse farms in this area left. People leave, and don’t come back. But we’ve still managed to hang in here…” As the older man spoke, he reached out to grab a stack of papers from the edge of the table and slid it towards the young Pendragon.

“Yes. Apparently people do rely on the sea to change their whole opinion on something, right, Merlin?” Leon joked, his grin sheepish yet lopsided. However, the brunette’s eyes were fixed on Arthur and the balance sheets before him, and even though he laughed, the look of hopelessness creeping on Arthur’s expression pained him.

After this there was dessert, and Merlin found himself eating slice after slice of rum cake with no shame. Everyone else was doing the same. As the rum kicked in, the conversation at the table progressively lost sense, and eventually everyone was sent to bed, the dishes unwashed for the night.

Back in the inn, Arthur and Merlin helped each other get to their room, and because Merlin was in a much more giddy and fuzzy state than the sturdier blonde, the young Pendragon nagged him to get into his pajamas, even if he moaned out in pain at some point.

“Auuuuuch… I think I got sunburned, Arthur…” the brunette grumbled, and was met with a stream of laughter from the other, who merely dumped him on his bed by the window.

“Why am I not surprised? You’ll get that checked tomorrow. Now sleep.”

But apparently Merlin refused to lose his lucidity right now, even if his eyelids struggled to keep open. His face a mask of seriousness now, he faced his friend with wide eyes and asked, “Before… when you were reading the balance sheets… This place won’t last for long either, will it? It’ll soon become another one of those ghost houses…”

There was a bitterness to his tone that he couldn’t control, and he only felt sadder as he saw the question had caught Arthur by surprise and he now looked dismayed too. The blonde sat on the ground before the bedded Merlin and nodded. “I’m sorry to admit this, but I’m afraid you’re right. Leon’s been a great help to me, a really great help. I think he’s the only person who believes I can do something for this place… but I’m not sure about this myself anymore…”

Merlin didn’t want to hear this. Deep inside his head, he knew the other was speaking the truth, but it somehow felt more difficult to hear when it was coming from Arthur Pendragon’s mouth. He wished to say some words of comfort, but his brain was so mellow and soft right now… His eyelids wouldn’t remain open anymore, and with a last shroud of lucidity he said, “I knew you brought us here because of me, Arthur. Thank you… it was so much fun and…”

Arthur waited for the rest of the sentence to come, but to no avail. Merlin had fallen asleep. With a chuckle, the blonde knelt before the bed and tucked his friend in, allowing his weathered fingers to push a few stray locks of raven hair away from his forehead. Unthinkingly, his lips followed suit, even if his touch was so soft and silent that it barely allowed him a taste of the pale and (Merlin was right) sunburned skin.

Getting up and heading to his own bed, the word “idiot” fell out of his mouth in a mutter, and his body stiffened when he heard Merlin sluggishly call him a “prat” back. Arthur ventured a look back, terrified that the other had been awake all along, but it turned out Merlin was just a very good sleep-talker.

The blonde sighed and slid into bed, shaking his head as he smiled at the young man sleeping across the room.

Gods, was he falling hard.

\---

When morning came, all the people in the inn were appalled to see how much work had been left behind. Leon’s grandmother promised there wouldn’t be any more rum cake in that house for a long while, to which Leon looked quite heartbroken.

After a light breakfast, everyone helped in bringing everything inside, and doing the washing up. Merlin complained every once in a while because of his sunburn, whenever the black t-shirt bearing an ornate shield with a set of triangles in the middle chafed more harshly across his skin. Gwen ended up rubbing a good dollop of medicine on him.

When questioned by Arthur, Merlin admitted he remembered very little about the previous night, but he sure had a marvelous time with Leon’s family. It was still very early in morning, the sky still pink outside, but they were all in a hurry to go. According to Arthur, the next location would need a lot of their time…

After they left, however, there appeared to be one more thing to do… Gwen searched in her backpack and took out a long object wrapped in a linen cloth. She handed it to Leon himself.

“You know what’s coming at the end of the summer…” she said, grinning wide. “My father and Elyan finished forging it last week. You know what to do.”

And the rest of the group merely nodded in agreement, making Merlin the only person who didn’t get it. But no one cared to explain, and they were all dragged out of the house, into (apparently) very big and interesting Camelot. After their final goodbyes, the group was once more on their way.

Since it’d be quicker, they followed the forest path back to the train station, and sat there waiting for the Camelot Express to come. They all looked quite sleepy, and Merlin could swear this headache wouldn’t leave him, but he was still in a very good mood.

Once the train arrived, they clambered inside, and Merlin sat next to the window again, mentally waving a goodbye to that beautiful spot of Camelot.

Silence slowly spread in the compartment, but this time it felt much more comfortable. Lulled by the festivities of the previous nights, the girls were already asleep, and Merlin felt that he could take this opportunity to rest more. There wasn’t much to do in the train, after all.

But Arthur soon ruined this plan, by silently getting up and nudging his arm, opening the door of their compartment and beckoning for Merlin to follow him. Intrigued, the brunette did so, wondering just where else the two of them could go in this closed space. He got further intrigued, and frankly quite scared, as Arthur opened the door between wagons, filling the room with a louder version of the train’s already obvious screeching. The two wagons were connected by a strong bolt, and there was a ladder climbing up on the side of theirs. It was with great mortification that Merlin saw his friend climb it.

At first, wide eyed, the brunette couldn’t believe this was happening, and wanted nothing more than to just return to their compartment and sleep through their journey, unworried. But Arthur was just there, in the middle of the ladder, and he seemed pretty determined not to move before Merlin started following him. Cursing under his breath at Arthur’s stupidity, the young man tried not to cringe as he watched the train tracks slide quickly beneath him, making his footing rumble. With his luck and clumsiness, he might as well end up dead from this whole silly experience. And it’d all be the Pendragon’s fault.

But no such disaster halted his journey, and in no time Merlin had his hands around the ladder as well, and satisfied with his friend’s progress, the blonde began climbing, followed close by the other.

Merlin didn’t know what to expect from this, but he kept his eyes on the ladder and not below him as he climbed, for this wasn’t a convenient time for him to be overwhelmed by vertigo. It all ended sooner than he had expected, and Arthur and he were now on top of one of the red wagons, the wind sweeping across their faces. He had to admit: the view was rather charming up there. And now that the panic was slowly fading, he could notice how much more he could actually see here: the remnants of the ocean to his left, the imposing, green mountain to his right. This must have shown in his expression, for the blonde was already staring teasingly at him after that.

“Oh, don’t look so satisfied, you’re completely crazy, you prat!” Merlin snapped, crawling closer to his friend. “What’s the whole point of coming here after all?”

“Other than get you all worked up, you mean?” Arthur chuckled back. “Just wait and see. We’ll be riding past this mountain soon.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes at this vague reply, but knew better than to insist. But he still wondered: was Camelot hiding yet another ocean behind that mountain? Probably not. Maybe Arthur was wrong this time. Maybe this would be something that wouldn’t impress him.

But he was wrong, of course.

As Arthur said, the mountain soon slid out of view and the train entered the most impressive plain Merlin had ever seen. Well, probably the only one he’d ever seen, really…

It surely wasn’t as impressive as the ocean had been, but this allowed Merlin to see almost all of Camelot from ground level, and indeed it was much richer than he had first expected. Patches of different shades of green, some of very different colors, were spread across this plain, even if Merlin couldn’t quite make out most of the details. There were little settlements here and there, each drawn and built in their own unique style, but the young man noticed how most of them were unsurprisingly abandoned. He could see flocks of animals far away, as small as the smallest ants from here, and on the places the human hand had never touched, Merlin could see other, bigger, settlement of trees, real trees, that looked like a whole world on their own, all gnarly and overwhelming, their branches like arms of galaxies, a blanket of life and wisdom.

Merlin couldn’t see the entire plain from here, but it was enough to notice how big Camelot really was. The whole region was surrounded by this tall fence of ragged, rocky mountains, close to which the train was now passing, and the young man now deduced that Citadel itself must be nesting on them, half-sheltered from the rest of the region.

After these initial moments of appraisal, Arthur looked at him, seeming a bit nervous of what Merlin had to say, but fortunately for him, the brunette didn’t disappoint. The blonde was encouraged by Merlin’s blatant smile, and couldn’t help but nod and grin himself in reply. He faced his home, this wide, wild, dying place he was to protect, and looking profoundly solemn, he asked Merlin, “Do you want me to give you a history lesson, or you’d rather go back and get some rest?”

Merlin had to admit that most of his lethargy was long gone, probably scared off by the small ladder quest. And now that he was faced with a bigger perspective of this place, and Arthur seemed quite eager to share more of it with him, and Merlin was more than willing to listen.

“A management student has to know their history,” he replied, smiling wide, his face crinkling. “I’m all ears.”

As intended, this caught Arthur by surprise and made him laugh heartily, before he regained his composure once more. He shook his head and said, “There is really no end to your idiocy… Anyway, you are the audience I’m stuck with, and I guess that will have to do…”

The blonde pointed to the many abandoned farms, always visible no matter how far the train rode. “You were curious about these before. You’ve been told how they were abandoned. But you never really asked how it was before.”

“You can tell me now, then…” Merlin replied. He was overcome by a sense of dread at his own words, perhaps afraid that he’d get in too deep. And he was scared of how much he now really wanted to know about Camelot, Arthur’s world. Things were unknowingly changing, and he merely stared in wonder at their changer.

“Yes, I can!” the blonde nodded, facing the sliding landscape again. There were a few moments of comfortable silence as he gathered his thoughts, but then he sighed and began, “Way before I was born, people tell me every house and village here, from this point to Citadel, was thriving with life. Tourists came in, people were proud to live here, the land was rich and wise and interesting. Whatever the people needed, if they worked enough for it, the land provided. My parents were kids at the time, and I believe your mother was too?”

Merlin nodded, remaining silent.

“Anyway, her parents, your grandparents, saw the signs early enough. You see, people were happy here, but outside these mountains, cities and promises of an easier life were growing. The first families left to test the waters, and never returned. This encouraged others, and soon began the biggest flight anyone had seen. Camelot was good, but the effort given to it was too much of a big price to pay. Living in the city was easier, more comfortable… and there was nothing to convince the people to stay…”

And at this Merlin frowned, “You can’t blame people for wanting a better life… I’ll admit, Camelot is a beautiful place, it has loads of potential. But that doesn’t prevent progress.”

Arthur only offered a nod before saying, “Yes, I know. I agree with you. And…” the blonde grinned now, “… I see part of your opinion about this place has changed – I’m glad to know. But that’s not what I meant. Let me continue… My family has been responsible for taking care of Citadel – and Camelot – for many, many generations. We have other sister-families, Gawaine’s, Lancelot’s, Leon’s, and they’ve always been close, always struggling for a common goal. Before the first man ever dreamt of the concrete that he’d need to build your city, Merlin, this region was already thriving, and the Pendragons were its keepers. The riches of Camelot lie deep beneath the earth’s surface: the minds and the beliefs of its people have marked it in ways you still haven’t witnessed… Belonging to Camelot is a way of life in its own. You feel the land and its seasons, you dream during the cold Winters just to live every second of these Summers. You love with your whole heart. Some say that all Camelot’s children, however far away, always feel the urge to return home. And I too believe in progress, Merlin, I know it was unavoidable that people would leave. But no Pendragon can turn their back on Camelot.”

Merlin hadn’t realized when the feeling began, but a deep shiver was tingling down his spine, in a way that had nothing to do with cold. Looking at Arthur now, the same passionate devotion, crimson when reflected on the blue of his eyes, was showing brightly now, and a part of Merlin could feel how much the blonde said was true. A flash of a recurring dream slid before his eyes, a young man running across an endless field of emerald, crying out all his pains to the world. The train was rumbling beneath him, the sun hit his sunburned skin, the land was sprawled, imposing, before him. He had never felt quite this alive before.

And Arthur continued.

“My grandparents did all they could to hold this back, but they didn’t have much luck… My father grew up in this turmoil, and when he became in charge of Camelot, the task of saving it fell to him. And he was a great leader, he was full of wonderful ideas. Everyone I know tells me how passionate he was. He was a true Pendragon, faithful to the land, knowing of its secrets. And he loved like a true Pendragon would…”

Merlin couldn’t quite mask a smile at this. He imagined Arthur himself would become a person quite like his father at that. And he knew where this was going, and the fact that the blonde would touch the subject of his mother again with him was precious – something fragile that the brunette, even not being a Pendragon, was willing to protect at all costs.

“That was when he met your mother…” Merlin suggested, still smiling.

Arthur nodded, and the same gentle smile was on his lips. “Yes, he did,” he said. “And as he loved my mother, the passion to bring Camelot to life only ten-folded. He took her everywhere he could, and the two were brilliant at bringing people back. They were known to hike the same path across the region every year, during the summer. They’d visit all the villages, speak to everyone, and still be in touch with the land. This path of theirs was eventually lined with steel rails, and a train was put on this track. This very train we’re sitting on, in fact.”

Merlin, quite startled with this information, felt his hands brush across the rusting red metal of the train beneath him. Another shiver coursed through him, at the significance of being here, right now, of retracing the steps of the people that mattered most to his friend. But he already knew that this story couldn’t end well… Ygraine Pendragon was no longer alive…

Arthur’s eyes were deeply focused on the shifting landscape now, and his expression had hardened. There was nothing Merlin could possibly imagine saying, and he mentally kicked himself for it.

“And then I was born… I didn’t know how my father was before, but he’s no longer that man. Pendragons love with all their heart. After I was born, I think all his reasons to revive Camelot went with her. He took Morgana in a few years after that, but it didn’t change a thing… but I still grew up here. This is my home. I scraped my knees on these rocks, I broke my bones when falling from these trees, I was lulled to sleep and dreamt with the songs of these spirits. As soon as I learned to run, no one could trap me inside four walls. If I allow my home to die, I’ll become as bitter as my father.”

A few moments of silence passed. The ancient train rattled as it rode on, another abandoned farm painted the horizon.

Merlin opened his mouth, throat dry from being quiet for so long, and he managed to say, “I think you’re as passionate as you father, Arthur. If not more.”

“But is it enough?” the blonde asked in turn, facing the brunette with a pained expression. “No one seems to think so anymore…”

“It must be,” Merlin continued, wide-eyed. “You have to at least try. I’d do the same if it were me…” he added, with a certainty he didn’t quite feel he possessed. Poor little Merlin… like he’d ever be able to carry such a burden…

But his words seemed to have soothed Arthur, for the young man was now nodding, looking at his friend with something that both pleased and hurt him more than fondness. Something rang inside his head: that Pendragons loved with all their heart.

The blonde’s fingers curled around Merlin’s wrist, and after a moment of pure panic, the brunette felt himself relax against the warm, gentle touch. He felt his high cheekbones warming up, and the two of them were now stubbornly facing the sliding morning landscape, a canvas of light and life.

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin…” Arthur whispered, out of the blue.

Merlin ventured a glance at him, his lips quirking up in a smile, his heart racing with both panic and something much, much greater, scarier beyond fear.

“I am too…” he whispered back.

God, was he falling hard.

\---

When the Camelot Express stopped again, bellowing a new cloud of steam as the conductor yelled the station’s name at the passengers, Arthur and Merlin climbed down the roof, joining a pair of yawning Gwen and Morgana.

There was no sand to be seen this time, nor many trees, for that matter. The station was nested against a tall, ragged mountain, and the path that carried off it led uphill.

Merlin would have felt disappointed if the mountain weren’t as imposing, as towering as this was. The grey rock jutted out in odd, sharp angles, and the peak seemed to pierce through the high blanket of clouds. Green, soft grass lined their path, and a few trees sprouted from the rare soil patches, bending upwards.

They met Percival at the beginning of the path.

This friend of theirs wasn’t as tall as Leon, but he surely made up for that in upper body strength. His arms were thicker than Merlin’s legs, and he wore a sleeveless shirt precisely to accentuate that. Other than this, Percival’s hair was cut really short, and like the other friends, a dusting of copper beard painted his smiling face. The group greeted him in turns, and Merlin was both surprised and pleased to see how careful and kind his handshake was.

The brunette looked up from their spot, staring at the towering pillars of rock above. But he still managed a smile as he asked, “We’re going to climb this, right?”

Percival offered a nod, “Yes, we are. The village is somewhere mid climb. I hope this won’t be a problem?”

Merlin shook his head, smiling wider, “Not at all.”

And the group started their journey. As they gained height, it became harder and harder for Merlin to keep up with the rest of them, but he couldn’t complain: the view around him was well-worth the time wasted catching his breath. Not only Camelot below or the thriving grass, this steep path was filled with small animals and ruins, ancient things that the moss had claimed and the earth had taken back – and perhaps it was these ruins’ purpose all along.

Merlin ran a thin finger across a stone circle, an intricate pattern carved on it, of some sort of mythical creature. He remembered Arthur’s words and he grinned as he felt the hair on his arms stand on end. Skeptical as he was, he still had to admit that this place was much more than what it seemed. And maybe he spent too much time just standing there, because soon enough he heard the rustle of steps from ahead, and saw the blonde return to him with a concerned look.

“Oh, there you are!” he chuckled, now looking mildly relieved, wholly mischievous. “The others and I were worried you’d been swept off by the breeze and fallen. I guess we were wrong.”

Merlin smirked. “I’m sorry to disappoint. No, I was just looking at these… They’re everywhere!”

Arthur nodded, and beckoned his friend to follow him. “There are more than just little rocks spread around here. If you cared to keep close, you’d see that Percy has brought us here to see actual tombs.”

This definitely perked the young man’s interest, for he trailed beside the blonde with raised eyebrows. Ruins of a tomb should be way more enlightening than small carvings, however impressive.

They couldn’t see the rest of the group ahead of them, and Merlin slightly panicked at this. Deeper into the mountain, the trees grew in number, and an emerald forest grew around them, rocky crags and more ruins scattered here and there. This wouldn’t be the best place to get lost. Fortunately, Arthur seemed pretty sure of the way they were going, and Merlin relied on that. This is, until the path forked.

The fact that the blonde has stopped before it, clearly in deep thought, wasn’t reassuring in the least. For a moment, Merlin wanted to curse at the wilderness, for not being as organized as his urban world, with signs and directions everywhere. But Arthur didn’t give him enough time for that: he chose the left path and began trailing it.

Open-mouthed, Merlin scurried behind the other and asked, “Are you sure this is the right way? I’ve learned from experience that right is the right way to go, not left…” Of course the brunette’s experience was based merely on video games, and even in that area it could be faulty.

His question earned him an impatient huff from his friend, “I think I know my way around my own home, Merlin, thank you very much! Of course this is the right way.”

Yet, it wasn’t…

Sure the ruins began growing in number and in size, but Arthur stopped here and there with a confused expression on his face, perhaps looking for reference points. Merlin sure couldn’t find any. After a few minutes of uncertain progress, the blonde finally halted and turned to him, looking sheepish and slightly concerned, “Huh… I guess it was the other way… BUT!” he continued, before Merlin could start protesting, “I know this path will lead us to the village too! We’ll just make a little detour…”

Merlin sighed and shook his head, his face stretched in a threatening grin. “You couldn’t listen to me, could you? You’d better take us the right way now, prat, or so help me…”

The brunette supposed he’d managed to sound intimidating, but apparently Arthur disagreed. He howled in laughter at his menace, holding him by the nape of his long, thin neck and pulling him forward.

And as time passed now, Merlin had to admit that this new path was rather interesting. Now that it was just the two of them, somewhat the rush to get to the village lessened whenever they found something new and exciting. Apparently, this was the path villagers tended to avoid for it was far longer and more difficult to cross when compared to the alternative. It had been avoided for so long that it was slowly being forgotten, and even if Arthur didn’t say it, Merlin could see that his friend felt guilty and ashamed to have let this happen.

So, all in all, it was a good thing that they were going this way that day.

As they walked, Merlin would point to a new object or a new carving and Arthur did his best to explain which deity was that, and what festivities were linked to it. The brunette frowned because he wasn’t used to listen to these stories, believe in these myths. The fact that an entire region thrived and depended on them was ludicrous, but at the same time a nice change. In some ways, it was like being back home, in front of his television and testing a new game. The familiarity made him smile, but, at the same time, the fact that this was actually real life got to him a bit.

Soon, however, the pair ended up making quite a discovery.

Near the place where the two paths reunited again, the rocky ground opened to a huge cave below, an eerie tomb unlike anything Merlin had ever seen. Chortling loudly, Arthur dropped inside with no worries, walking about with hungry, curious eyes, but his friend was more cautious, making a much bigger ruckus as he slowly entered, making loose rocks tumble everywhere. But he couldn’t deny the equal excitement in his face.

The stilled air was much chillier there, and the comforting buzz of the bugs and the birds outside couldn’t quite reach this place. This made the experience even more haunting, but quite more challenging. Arthur seemed to agree, for he was courageous in his advances inside the tomb.

Luckily for the both of them, the ceiling was broken in several sites, allowing the late morning’s light to pour through the rocky crevices, preventing them from being entirely in the darkness. This proved useful for the tomb carried on for a long while, full of carvings, whole stories written on the walls, and all sorts of weapons.

The two friends were completely silent as they walked, only their steps echoing in the still air. Merlin kept close to Arthur, sensing this was a place where people should be apart, even if the blonde walked as proudly as ever. He was a Pendragon, after all. This was his home, no one was better suited to walk these hidden corridors.

But their mood and the tension certainly lightened when they reached the end of the tomb, which opened up to the forest path, nearer to the rest of the group and the village. There was a large stone slab resting at the very end of it, and a sword had been stuck blade-first inside it, golden and ancient.

Merlin smiled brightly at this. His video-gaming prowess didn’t fail him now, and he quickly scurried forward, past Arthur and his confident stance. Before the blonde could say anything, he was already standing on top of the stone slab, holding the sword’s hilt with both hands and attempting to pull it out while humming a short, cheerful tune.

“What the heck are you doing, Merlin?” Arthur finally asked, dumbfounded, as the other’s efforts proved to be unsuccessful.

“Legend of Zelda!” he tried to explain, but the blank expression he received in reply wasn’t encouraging. Still, Merlin grinned as he stepped away. “Why don’t you give it a try?” he playfully challenged.

And Arthur accepted the challenge, stepping in next to his friend and holding the sword too. Merlin was already prepared to mock him as he failed but, surprise of all surprises, the sword actually slid out of the stone as the blonde pulled it. The two young men stood there, in awe, as Arthur idly turned the blade on his hand, inspecting the eon-old marks upon it.

“Can you read that?” Merlin asked in a whisper, the event rendering him utterly solemn.

Arthur shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. But it’s very old… I ought to put it back…”

But Merlin promptly stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. A small smirk seemed to have returned to him. “In Legend of Zelda…” he began, “… the boy managed to pull the sword out of the stone when the land was in dire need of a hero. It was his destiny to save his world, and even princesses and wizards would look upon the sword and know that this boy was special, and they could trust him…”

The brunette looked up at his friend and he saw an unfathomable emotion there, mingled with the same fragility he had seen over and over again along this journey. It was as if Arthur’s hope was about to break, and the fact that Merlin was saying these words to him meant that he had one more chance to prove his worth.

“Keep it,” the brunette continued. “If that’s not a good omen, I don’t know what is.”

And at this the blonde looked kindly at him, before facing the sword with renewed enthusiasm, and a large grin across his lips.

“I…” Arthur began, “I don’t always understand a word of what you’re saying, Merlin… but when I do… well… Thank you, my friend.”

He put the sword away, carrying it along his belt, and gave Merlin a gentle squeeze at the base of his neck. The other looked utterly pleased with himself, and the blonde didn’t have the courage to ruin that, so he merely smiled too, and looked up at the opening to the forest path.

“I guess we ought to join the others now…” the blonde concluded. “I’ll help you climb up…”

It was easy enough for Merlin to prop himself on Arthur’s shoulders and just pull his way onto the surface. The challenge was pulling the blonde along with him… The brunette was holding his friend’s hands, pulling as hard as he could, but Arthur was still very close to fall back, and bring Merlin too.

If Percival had been there, there would be no such problem. Alas, the two of them debated in that impasse for long, long minutes, yelling and fuming and then, finally, making it through, when Arthur finally grasped the edge of the forest and managed to bring himself to Merlin’s level. Of course, everything would have been easier if Arthur hadn’t brought the sword along, but now that Merlin had spoken of it so well, the young Pendragon had grown quite attached to it.

As they walked the right path now, he held the sword again, and found a word he could actually read upon the blade’s runes.

“Heh,” he interjected, glancing at Merlin. “Apparently, the sword’s called Excalibur…”

But the other merely shrugged. It was a more original name than ‘Master Sword’, anyway.

\---

When the two of them finally arrived at the village hidden in the mountain, the rest of the group had noticed their absence, but by the raunchy looks they were giving them, they probably had their own fixed theory on why they were late.

Both Arthur and Merlin blushed, but it was the blonde who faced a suspiciously smirking Morgana and grumbled, “Lay off, we would have gotten here sooner if Merlin hadn’t stopped to pull out the sword…”

“Good grief, Arthur, I don’t want to know the details!” his sister chortled in reply.

And the others couldn’t help but laugh too.

Now that they were here, Merlin could witness the charms of this village, a small settlement built inside of a hollow mountain. Its rocky walls supported the entire village, whose stone houses had been carved on them, and at the center of the hollow was the library, as old as the houses, and according to Arthur, the largest source of pagan knowledge of whole of Camelot. There were trees everywhere, facing the impossibly high sky, and some of the houses had plots of land before them. A spiraling stone staircase had been carved along with the houses, allowing any traveler to reach the hollow mountain’s peak and find what would certainly be the best view of the region.

But, apparently, Arthur disagreed.

“It was actually quite a disappointment when the workers finished the staircase and finally looked out from there…” he explained, to which Merlin frowned an unmistakable ‘why’.

“There’s another mountain right in front of it, between this one and the rest of Camelot. It’s taller than this one, and it blocks all of the view.”

“Then what was the point? So much effort gone to waste…” Merlin reasoned.

“Not really…” Arthur shook his head, amused. “Just look at it. It’s still a marvel, and it still works as a very good lookout. It was still a good idea that they did it.”

And Merlin really couldn’t argue with that.

“We’re…” the blonde spoke again, looking a bit uncertain. “We’re visiting that other mountain soon. Not tomorrow, but perhaps the day after that.”

“Alright… is anything wrong with that?” the brunette wondered, confused.

“Nothing at all. But then you’ll see the best view of Camelot,” Arthur smirked, and after that he was silent.

The visit to the ancient library turned out to be much more fun than Merlin first envisioned it. Among the books of local folklore and the land’s ancient religions, the young man found entire volumes of recordings, reports of people who had spent their lives studying a different kind of management from his, that was true, but whose minds still worked like his. He marveled at the incredibly creative ways that these people used to keep everything running smoothly, and he sadly wondered why were these practices neglected, why were these people ignoring such valuable knowledge, right in their midst?

Merlin poured through several volumes while he sat on a surprisingly comfortable stone chair, every once in a while looking idly around him, astonished with the beauty and delicacy of a building carved out of such a rough element. The rest of the group wasn’t as interested in the matter as he was, conversing about later summer events with too much excitement, which slightly annoyed him as he tried to pay close attention to what he was reading. But he did glance up when Percival announced what he was to bring to the fest, and he showed them all a very, very old leather-bound book, even if he didn’t dare open it.

Merlin frowned, wondering why was everyone they met so excited about the end of the summer, but soon the subject flew out of his mind.

After he was (finally) done reading, Arthur managed to drag him out into the village, for like in the others, he had to collect the balance sheets, but unlike the others, these were scattered about many houses, and he had to visit them all.

With a bigger pang of that poignant feeling, Merlin saw his friend frown at the balance sheets he was handed, but this time he felt encouraged to do something he hadn’t done before. In many of these houses, the brunette would interrupt Arthur and he’d feel inspired to impart the knowledge he had acquired in the library, showing the owner of the house how many of the things they were doing could be easily improved. The blonde would stare at him silently during these moments, a gratefulness he’d never be able to word out quite evident in his eyes, and Merlin felt good. He felt in his element, he felt home.

In other of these houses, the changes Merlin suggested led the owner to reconsider some parts of their stone-block lairs, and at this point Arthur had to intervene too, and the two of them together would work, again messing with hammer and nails and chisels, to bring about small yet useful changes.

Morgana and Gwen felt these things were particularly endearing to witness, the idle chatter and banter the two young men would develop from doing these tasks together, and Percival would join in sometimes, crooning with the young women, or lending a hand at work.

Among everything, Merlin was most pleased to see that Arthur didn’t let go of his sword, safely tucked away in his belt.

At the end of the day, everyone was quite exhausted.

Percival’s stone house wasn’t either an inn like Leon’s or a big farm like Gawaine’s, but the group found much comfort in the small coziness of their quarters. The food was as hearty and resilient as the mountain that had sustained it, and, as usual, Merlin gulped it all in one go, asking for seconds.

Chattering with their host didn’t stretch out for long, because several fits of yawning were sneaking between the laughter and the talking. After a while, Percival sent them all to bed, and they obeyed without arguing, dragging their feet to their rooms.

Once in bed, however, both Merlin and Arthur felt oddly awake again, and found themselves idly talking for hours. For one, the brunette found the sensation of being at peace inside a mountain quite overwhelming, and the more he could speak to his friend in this environment, the more amazing his memories would be after all this was over.

Lying belly-up on his bed, Merlin turned his head to Arthur, whose bed was right next to his, and said, “I should have looked that sword up in the library, you know. I’m pretty sure it belonged to a king.”

The blonde hummed and replied, his voice hoarse from exhaustion, “Yeah, I think you’re right… It’d make sense, especially since I now have it. Pendragons have always been pretty regal, you know?”

“Well, they certainly have the pratily arrogance of a king…” Merlin chuckled, which earned him a pillow throw from Arthur.´

After a small debate over if the blonde deserved his pillow back or not (he stretched himself over to Merlin’s bed and solved the matter by stealing his), Arthur used a few minutes of silence before saying, all too softly, looking up at the stony ceiling, “You were pretty amazing before, you know. These people will appreciate your help more than you can imagine.”

Merlin was quite taken aback with the blatant compliment, but it was pleasant to hear it. It made him feel warm and mellow. He turned his head to Arthur’s moonlight-painted face. “Yes, I can imagine. And the people still love you for keeping on fighting for them,” he replied, equally softly. “And I don’t know what you’ve done with me, but I’m starting to believe that this crazy dream of yours makes sense. I think that you’ll be actually capable of saving this place.”

Arthur looked back at him, his face wearing that mask of fragility that Merlin was getting used to. He reached out a hand, and his fingers curled around his wrist, a gesture the brunette was slowly telling to himself would only belong to the blonde from now on.

“Not alone,” was all Arthur could say.

The words set Merlin’s heart on a frenzied race, and he was thankful for the darkness, for it hid the rush of blood to his face. The two of them remained like this, holding each other’s gaze and pulse without a word for a few minutes, but it all felt a lot less awkward than it should. Merlin dared not break the contact, yet he dared not do anything else, anything more.

Eventually, exhaustion took Arthur over, and his eyelids slid down his utterly loving expression, making Merlin feel quite lonely.

When he fell asleep, his dreams were immense and so very vivid. In them, he and his friend were actually a king and his magical advisor, and with Excalibur in hand they’d save their land over and over again, from so many dangers.

They’d climb mountains and swim in the sea, and run across endless fields of green and love once another so hard they were actually turning into just one beautiful, complete entity, who came back through the ages to have a chance to live all its love. Pendragons love with all their heart.

When Merlin woke up, long before morning, Arthur, still sound asleep, still held his wrist warmly between his fingers. The brunette smiled quite goofily at this and then returned to a deep, dreamless sleep.

\---

On the next morning, the group was allowed to be as lazy as they wanted, for their next destination was close and the major event of importance there would only take place at night…

Like so many other things in their conversations, Merlin was curious about what they’d be doing that night, but like everything else, his curiosity went unanswered.

“You’ll see later tonight, Merlin!” Gwen chimed, as she walked hand in hand with Morgana. “The trip is sadly coming to its end, but I think we saved the best for last!”

Of course, this only served to heighten his curiosity, but there was nothing else he could do.

The group walked out of the village, making their way down the wide valley between the two tall mountains. The rocks and the ruins gave way to grass, both golden and emerald, sprinkled with all kinds of small flowers and scurrying little animals.

Out in the sun, Merlin’s sunburns hurt more, but he didn’t seem to care all that much. Looking ahead and up, he could see what Arthur meant with this mountain being so much taller than the other, and a part of him was both thrilled and anxious, quite looking forward to their visit there.

With Percival gone, the four of them walked their path more slowly, even if they remained silent for most of the time. Every once in a while, Merlin would steal a glance at Arthur, idly thinking of how their hands were still twined in the morning.

There was no denying it now, how he felt drawn to his friend, how he had come to admire both his quirks and his passion, and steadily come to cherish all that Arthur represented. Sometimes the blonde would catch his glances and offer a sheepish smile, and the brunette couldn’t help but reply with his own silly, heart-wrenching grin too. And Merlin wasn’t stupid, he could see the underlying emotion in Arthur’s gestures, he willingly responded to them, felt that very emotion welling inside him too.

Arthur was slowly changing him, and his world was enveloping him so comfortably. Merlin trusted his dream, and trusted the blonde would bring it to fruition some day. A growing part of him fervently hoped to witness that in person.

But what was holding him back, then? Why was he so scared of taking the next step, and why was he terrified that Arthur would do so himself?

His anxiety kicked in again, filled his head with grim thoughts of solitude and distance, and Merlin would never find the right opportunity to show his affection properly. It’s not like he hadn’t been romantically (or sexually) with somebody else before, but neither of those cases ended very well for him.

Arthur was special. He wasn’t willing to ruin this unique connection between them for something so easy to fail. Merlin found it difficult to imagine the blonde wanting to live with his faults all the time, all the things that were such an intimate part of him and set him apart from anyone else his age.

And even pushing that aside, how would it be when Merlin had to return home to Ealdor? Arthur would certainly bore of him and would find someone much better suited to him. He deserved so, at least.

Perhaps something could happen, just one time… The brunette pondered this for a while, feeling that Summer offered these opportunities to everyone… But then he looked at Arthur, studying all the gestures and mannerisms he had come to learn over this time, and Merlin knew that he could never just spend only one night with him. Arthur Pendragon was an ‘either always or never’ deal, and he felt he couldn’t have either.

Merlin slouched as he walked, feeling saddened from these pessimistic thoughts. This was immediately detected and mirrored by his friend, but fortunately, neither of them had enough time to mope, for their steps soon led them to a place Merlin had only dreamt about.

The plain had turned to an immense golden field, with wheat blades taller than any of them swaying idly with the breeze. Highly amused, Gwen suggested they played a bit of hide-and-seek inside this unusual labyrinth, and everyone ended up agreeing.

Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he had played this game (perhaps he never did), but he knew he was enjoying it thoroughly now. Arthur protested as he was chosen to be ‘it’, and he pouted as he swished through the wheat blades, listening intently to any sound that might give the others away.

Merlin was crouched and still, grinning wide and trying to keep away from the blonde. Gwen wasn’t far away, but she wasn’t able to stifle a string of giggles, which attracted Arthur’s attention. On the other hand, Morgana was a champion at the game: as still and silent as a feline, studying her brother and her opponents with earnest.

Still guided by Gwen’s giggles, Arthur steadily approached the origin of the sound, but since Merlin was so close to the giggling young woman, the blonde stumbled upon him first.

And hence the race began.

Merlin took off running faster than ever, bulldozing over the golden field, long, thin limbs frantically swaying at his sides. Arthur sprinted close behind, hands reaching out for the base of his friend’s neck, and he was roaring in laughter, at the thrill of the chase, at the picture of Merlin running.

The brunette didn’t know how he managed to keep up with this pace for so long, but he was running and laughing, and whenever the blonde almost caught him he shrieked, and something inside him, that had been swelling and weighing down on him for so long, longer than he had been here, was slowly loosening.

This was what he was dreaming of for so long, Merlin thought, grinning, panting heavily as he ran. He felt freer than ever, and when Arthur finally caught up with him, pouncing him to the soft ground, he felt, most of all, relieved.

A wide circle of wheat had fallen with them, and despite Merlin’s previous insecurities, now that he had Arthur so close to him once more, intimate and tender, he couldn’t help but fall into his comfort again. The blonde’s arms came around his middle, and he buried his laughing face in the small of Merlin’s back. The brunette merely turned to face him and embraced him back, and they lay there laughing till Morgana and Gwen came to check the game’s results, and the whole group ended up lying on the grass.

To all of their satisfaction, neither Arthur nor Merlin let each other go. Morgana and Gwen had slid to a comfortable embrace themselves.

A few minutes went by, with the four of them lying there, facing the midday azure sky. They were mostly silent during this time, until Gwen suggested they’d give names to the rare, fluffy clouds. Arthur saw swords and hammers, Gwen found a horse, Morgana pointed at a throne while Merlin offered names of creatures they’d never heard of. And then Arthur would ask him to describe these creatures, and then they’d all see it too.

When Arthur’s stomach began rumbling in hunger, the four of them finally sat up and unpacked their food, proceeding to mix and match it, making lunch out of the hard, wholesome meals of Percival’s village. As they ate, Gwen began reaching out for several blades of wheat and different kinds of flowers, and with Morgana and Arthur’s help, began crafting elegant garlands.

Merlin stared at the others, frowning in confusion. After he took another bite off his beef covered with spicy sauce, he asked with a muffled voice, “What the heck are you doing?”

“It’s a tradition,” Morgana explained, half-smirking, her elegant fingers tangling the blades and impossibly blue forget-me-nots in a thin braid. “All of us will need one for the festival tonight. Including you.”

Merlin looked around and saw Gwen diligently make hers with wild roses, and Arthur choosing red poppies for his. He had no idea of where to start, so he just kept eating.

“I’ll make one for you, Merlin…” the blonde eventually smirked, rapidly finishing his. He pulled new blades of wheat nearby and his expression clouded over as his hand felt around the ground, hovering above the many available flowers. Still, his face showed a grimace, and he promptly got up, rushing inside the maze of wheat in an impromptu quest.

“Hmm, is it me, or Arthur seems overly dedicated to this?” Gwen asked through laughter, also finishing her garland. Merlin saw Morgana smirk in reply. “You guys are adorable,” she added.

And before the brunette could open his mouth to protest, Arthur was back, grinning wide and carrying a bunch of twigs bearing small yet extremely good-smelling light purple flowers.

“Lavender!” the blonde exclaimed, slumping back on his spot and resuming his work. Merlin looked from him to Gwen and Morgana, who were not very subtly covering their mouths with their hands.

In silence, Merlin watched his friend work, and the last garland being made, his garland. He was quite handy in this work, as he had been with everything else before. When it was all done, Merlin eyed it with admiration, and smiling, he took it, brushing careful fingers over the many flowers. It smelled even better now.

“Thank you!” Merlin exclaimed with glee, mimicking his friends and throwing his garland around his neck. After quite enthused words of approval, they all began repacking their food, and got up to resume their path.

Merlin watched Gwen and Arthur walk ahead, but Morgana stayed behind, putting one hand on his shoulder, signaling him to wait. He looked at her in confusion, and when she deemed the others were far enough, she walked with him and said, “Don’t even try fooling me! You’re completely pining for Arthur, and you know it!”

The brunette knew there was no point in lying and saying otherwise, so he merely shrugged, his cheeks covered in an evident shade of red and part of his previous sadness returning. “Yeah, I do. And Arthur most likely feels the same about me… But why does it have anything to do with you?”

Morgana sighed in exasperation. “Because the two of you are so stubborn that you won’t let anything happen! Look, I’ll be honest with you: I’m like you, I never had much hope for Arthur’s dream. Believe me when I say that in a few years’ time Mordred and his company in Mercia will buy the whole land, and finally do something appropriately productive with it.”

Merlin showed a panicked frown. “Buy the whole land? How is that even possible?”

Morgana nodded, adding a saddened, humorless chuckle to it. “You’d be surprised… but that’s past the point. No matter what I think of Arthur’s project, he is my brother, and I want to see him happy. He hasn’t been as connected to anyone as he is to you since, well, ever, and you ought to know that it is a big deal…”

Yes, the famous motto was brought back to Merlin’s mind: Pendragons loved with all their heart. But he shivered unpleasantly at the thought, absolutely terrified of something that sounded so much bigger than himself… even if the word seemed so relatable to him, evoking the image of a grinning Arthur, the boyish mischief and unwavering passion painting him in brilliant shades. Merlin caught himself smiling, a hand clutched over his chest, over his heart. But then anxiety assaulted him again, and he stopped smiling.

“I’m a very complicated person…” the brunette finally said, sounding more tired than he should. “He knows this already, but only a part. I’ll never know exactly how to be with him, and he with me, and I’ll only make him miserable in the end. And we’d all lose quite a lot of what we were because of a stupid gamble, a stupid mistake… Believe me, I’m not what he needs, what he wants…”

Morgana, however, arched her eyebrows at him, seemingly unconvinced. “You might be a genius about everything else, Merlin, but not at this. The chemistry between the two of you is magnificent, and the friendship you have is forever. Even if things didn’t work out, you wouldn’t lose him. But no one has the right to tell you what to do! The choice is yours and his, and I respect you. Now, let’s go faster, or we’ll lose them…”

With this, the young woman hastened her step and followed close to the others, but Merlin was still inside his reverie. He looked around, and in this surreal place, of familiar grass and sun and breeze, he almost believed he was just dreaming, those dreams in which he’d scream till he could no more.

Camelot had created an illusion inside his head, that things were beautiful and all was possible, that a boy with golden hair and a heart of fire loved him and that he could love him back with no regrets. This illusion enveloped him and was slowly bringing very real consequences to his very real life.

Merlin was terrified. Now completely alone in the field of his dreams, he was terrified that he might just suddenly wake up.

\---

It seems that their lunch pause had been perfectly timed for them to arrive at the new village at sundown.

With the weaved garlands around their necks, the group went through the tall steel gate in the stone village walls beaming excitedly. Even Merlin, who had been so close to a full-fledged panic attack just hours ago, looked forward to mysterious event that was to happen at night.

The brunette noticed that this village was much more similar to Citadel than the others, with its narrow streets and the many houses and farms, with the wide space in the center, where several stands were set for later. He could see many people in the streets, all of them wearing the same garland as they did, all of them unmistakably excited and busy.

Many of the stands sold alcohol and food, others quite rustic-looking music instruments, and a few of them sold masks and other trinkets. At the very center of the village, a large pyre was lit, orange flames towering up in the air, freckles of ash and ember flickering about, several flowers drawing a circle around the fire. Someone had drawn intricate patterns on the dirt with their fingers, pictures of horned satyrs, mythical creatures, words quite similar to the runes on Excalibur’s blade.

And, speaking of which, everyone that knew and greeted Arthur made a comment on the sword he still carried on his belt, and the blonde looked quite pleased to see it gain its deserved merit. Then, as they loitered at the village center, they finally met their chaperones for the night, Lancelot and Elena.

While Lancelot, a tall, brunette and handsome man with a humble smile and gentle eyes, had a garland of white carnations wrapped around his neck, Elena, a beautiful blonde young woman who looked at them wide-eyed, wore hers with sunflowers. The flowers were far too big in her case, but Merlin found it fitting, for it matched the aura of eccentricity hovering about her.

As usual, they all greeted with much care and tenderness, with Lancelot even lifting Guinevere off her feet and holding her tight, something Morgana happily laughed at. The two of them also saw Arthur with great regard, doing like the others and also complimenting Excalibur.

After this meeting, their chaperones guided them to the part of the village closest to the train station, where Lancelot lived and the group would stay the night. By the time they had dropped off their things, the sun was completely down and the festivities were set to start. Merlin felt his chest heave quite nervously at everything. He just wanted to be left behind and get an early evening, but a stubborn part of him didn’t want to give up on this just yet, not when everything else had been so wonderful.

So the brunette followed his friends and the two guides back to the village’s center, and let the night take them all.

It wasn’t too bad at first, Merlin decided. People were friendly to them, and the stands were interesting, and the food was delicious. The mixture of scents mingling in the air made a wonderful impression in his mind. The brunette still felt these new butterflies making a revolution inside his stomach whenever Arthur would touch him, or look at him, but he was able to keep his panic in check.

But, of course, his defenses would wear out with time, and eventually his face couldn’t conceal his expression of pure terror, and Morgana quickly caught on with that.

“Oh dear lord, Merlin!” she approached him while frowning, her hissing tone full of reproach and annoyance and, deep down, sheer worry. “Please don’t tell me this whole freak out is because of what I said!”

But all Merlin could do was look slightly offended. “Oh, you can bet it is! I was doing just fine without all this pressure… I don’t think I can handle this, Morgana…”

And this seemed to get to her, who awkwardly put a hand to his shoulder, attempting a comforting smile. “I almost regret talking to you… but you have to see how necessary it was… I want the two of you to be happy. And you are, and you can be more, so very much more… Don’t give up just yet. Walk around, have a few drinks. There should be music soon. The party has only begun!”

The gesture worked for Merlin, who looked at her with a small smirk. He nodded, promising to give it another try. Panic still filled him quite wholly, but he could push it back for a few more minutes.

Merlin avoided Arthur the best he could. At this point of time, being with the blonde would only increase his anxiety, and that was something he didn’t need. He considered the several alcohol-selling stands, eyeing one particularly thick drink with half-disgust, half-curiosity, but he didn’t allow himself to try it. He looked about to see the village center fill with more and more people, he saw Gwen and Morgana holding hands amongst the crowd, but Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

A few people got interested in him, for even in this party the villagers were quite aware of who the strangers were. Many of these people were quite wondering why Arthur would bring a strange boy like him in such an adventure, but to that Merlin didn’t quite know what to reply… Why indeed.

As he walked and was left undisturbed for a while, Merlin reveled in his new-found solitude, taking interest on the other stands, the ones selling masks, music instruments and trinkets. The brunette could spot a pattern there: in the runes and carving marking them, so very similar to the ones he had found on the many ruins near Percival’s village. The many deities these objects represented looked quite beautiful, even haunting and eerie and so very real, but in a way they only heightened Camelot’s surreal feel.

With his mind swimming in these thoughts, Merlin found peace, at last. A busy, distracted brain was his best solution for all his social problems, and it seemed to be doing the trick just fine. The brunette was quite focused thinking about the many rich details of this region’s ancient religion when the band started to assemble.

Flutes and guitars, bagpipes and fiddles, tambourines and other weirder instruments Merlin wasn’t able to identify (but were being sold at one of the stands, he noticed) were being tuned and tested, and many people began surrounding the small group of people handling them. Merlin himself remained at a safe distance, just slightly curious about what kind of music this band would play.

The first notes of the first song began playing, soft and harmonious, before the band broke out in a feisty, crazy, thundering melody, that had all the surrounding people choose a partner and start dancing. Merlin saw this happen with awe and excitement, feeling a grin stretching his mouth, but the light and giddy emotion soon fell when he found Arthur among the people dancing, looking wildly happy with the beautiful and quirky Elena in hand.

After this, all promises he had made to Morgana and himself seemed to have vanished, and Merlin simply decided he couldn’t be in this party anymore. For the first time since Outer Circle, he left his friends behind and walked somberly to his room for the night. The people, distracted and entertained by the band, didn’t even see him leave, and this was just how Merlin wanted it.

But it was still quite early, and the brunette wasn’t quite sad, or at least not as sad as in Gawaine’s village. The night was young, and he could find his own entertainment. Still dressed in his adorable Minecraft t-shirt (a reminder of Arthur’s and his tomb adventure) and torn jeans, intact garland wrapped around his neck, he lay on his bed and searched his backpack for his Nintendo DS, picking out a random game and allowing himself to focus just on it.

Merlin could hear the band even through the thick walls, and he could hear the people singing along with these crazy songs. He could hear the world outside quite perfectly, but for now his mind was filled with the electronic beat of his silly console game, with the pixels walking about the screen, with the light pats of the stylus against the touch-screen. This was easy, and this was familiar, and when he’d get sleepy he’d muffle his head with the pillow and drift off to a dreamless slumber – or so he hoped.

His eyes weren’t surely prickling with the feel of incoming tears of frustration, nor were his chest hurting with his own insecurities and inabilities to fight for his own happiness, not at all.

Angrily, Merlin tried his hardest to cast all these feelings away, but he was soon reaching his breaking point. Fortunately for him, a surprise arrived to cancel all his struggles.

Someone knocked on his door, and even before the brunette could say something, Arthur stepped inside their shared room with a blank look on his face. Merlin remained silent, and didn’t take his eyes off the Nintendo’s screen.

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d be here…” the blonde stated, crossing the space to his friend’s bed and poking the wooden frame idly. “Moping about something, abandoning his handsome devil of a friend for an elf in a green tunic and tights.”

Merlin had to look up at Arthur at this, and the half smirk he found in his expression managed to wrench out a smile of his own. Prat. However, there was the fragility in his friend’s blue eyes again, something that showed how much he’d struggled to be there himself. “I’m sure my handsome devil of a friend can find a decent replacement,” the brunette replied, perhaps too bitterly, even if his smile remained.

But Arthur merely shook his head and laughed at this, now leaning fully against his bed frame. “I don’t think I can find anything more amusing to do tonight than show off my city-boy, Merlin.”

The blonde’s eyes clouded over with something dark and beautiful, and something similar involuntarily stirred inside the brunette, making his heart skip a beat. Merlin tried not to smile too wide at being called a possession of Arthur’s, for the blonde’s arrogance and ego didn’t need another boost, but he failed miserably, and his friend noticed.

In a final blow, he said, reaching an inviting hand out to him, “Put that thing away, you idiot. Tonight, Arthur Pendragon will show you how Camelot sets the standard for partying!”

Trying his best not to show too much eagerness, a grinning Merlin eventually surrendered, taking hold of the other’s hand, giving these festivities not a second, but a third chance to blow him away.

And people always say, third time’s the charm. In this case, they’d be quite right.

All of Merlin’s previous anxieties and insecurities were still present and quite screaming, but, contrary to his former belief, it seemed that Arthur’s presence only muffled or lessened them. For one, as Morgana watched them pass, hand in hand, into the village center, she gave a knowing smirk that made Merlin blush to the roots of his hair, and he was surprisingly undisturbed by this.

The band was now well set for the night, with a considerable legion of people dancing near to it, and though the frantic rhythm of the music was once again getting Merlin in quite a giddy mood, Arthur seemed to have other plans for the two of them. And the biggest of them at the moment seemed to involve getting his friend rotten drunk.

As the blonde ordered for him at one of the stands, Merlin finally got a decent look at the thick drink served there, smelling horribly of rotten fruit and honey. Arthur found him scowling deeply at the clay cup and laughed, downing his at one go before explaining that it was called ‘mead’.

“We always use it in these festivities! It tastes horrible, but it’s a tradition…” Arthur continued. “And brooding like that at it won’t help!”

Merlin eventually downed his own cup as well, even if he grimaced quite thoroughly after it, letting out a small shriek as Arthur doubled over himself laughing. As it went down, the mead burned brightly in his throat, but if the brunette had to say anything, he actually quite liked the drink…

Arthur ordered another round for the two of them, and then they began walking the rest of the party, cup in hand. With the blonde close by, Merlin had again the will and pleasure to talk with the other villagers, those who had been curious about him, those who were so needing of friendly advice from a management genius. He was impressed at himself for retaining these abilities even after a third drink of mead, and Arthur seemed to share his admiration.

But these were festivities, not work, and through the blonde, Merlin was able to know more about Lancelot, about his work in the many and varied arts of Camelot, in the artistic culture of the region through the ages. The other was a very polite, very humble and pleasant person, and paired up with Elena (who had danced with Arthur in a friendly whim, nothing else), who turned out to be an amazing painter, made quite an interesting double. Merlin enjoyed dancing with the young woman himself, to the sound of the crazy folk band, even if it took Elena some effort to lose his inhibitions.

At some point (after Merlin had downed his fourth cup of delicious mead), he began teasing Arthur with a wide grin, inhibitions dissolved by the alcohol in his skinny, small body. The blonde, not quite as intoxicated but certainly not sober, replied that the time for showing off his city-boy was over, and for the rest of the night, Merlin would be his alone.

Through the warmth that had overwhelmed the brunette’s body from these words, Merlin agreed to finally dance with his friend, a dance that had the two moving intimately in a way that far surpassed physical contact. Around the tall, burning pyre, with the garlands around their necks and the thrilling music resonating inside their very veins, Merlin could almost see these eon-old deities mingling around Arthur and him, gleefully blessing the hands that were holding, the foreheads that were touching, the laughter that was melting together.

The two of them didn’t even kiss, but from then on Merlin knew to let go of his insecurities, found that he could allow himself to dream, however briefly, if this was their reward. Arthur circled an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to his embrace, and his laughter was free and wild and amazing as the two of them twirled and twirled around the fire, the music gloriously building to its climax.

It was a wonder how they didn’t actually collapse onto each other by the time the song reached its flourishing end, but as they calmed down and Merlin giggled endlessly into the crook of Arthur’s neck, the two of them knew that their part of the festivities was over, and that some wholesome rest was in order.

Exactly as they came out, the two friends returned hand in hand to their chambers, Merlin swaying and laughing a little more than Arthur. They helped each other to their room and to their night clothes, and the blonde, now sobering up to the comfortable silence between them, tucked Merlin in his bed.

The brunette wasn’t quite drunk, so he could definitely see the fond look on his friend’s face, his calloused hands brushing sweaty jet-black locks of hair away from his eyes. He smiled profusely, feeling pleased and leaning into Arthur’s touch, and the blonde eventually let go to reach for the door.

“I’ll get you a glass of water, or you won’t let me sleep through the night…” he smirked.

The next thing Merlin remembers, his eyelids have become too heavy and everything turns cozily dark. After what seemed like twelve eternities, he heard a glass clink on his bedside table, and then he fell asleep.

But Arthur met his sister while fetching the water, and Morgana was just getting to her room with a giggling Gwen when she saw him.

He sighed even before she could say, “Another day where nothing happened, eh?”

However, the blonde had to shake his head at that, making his way back with the glass in hand and a grin on his lips, “It has happened enough already. Tomorrow is a new, promising day. But for now, I think we are all happy…”

And Arthur was quite right at that. The next day would probably be the best in all of their journey. It had always been the highlight of the whole Camelot Express path, and now the blonde hoped to give it a new meaning.

But, for now, a good dose of sleep was in order, and Arthur drifted to his as he listened to Merlin snore softly, hollow of worries, surrendered to his dreams.

\---

 _“When I hear the engine pass I’m kissing you wide,  
The hissing subsides,  
I’m in luck…_

 _When the evening reaches here,  
You’re tying me up,  
I’m dying of love,  
It’s okay…”_

\--

The morning after was early and grumpy, for even the smallest doses of mead took their toll on the group’s head. They sat around the huge dinner table with their foreheads resting against the cool wood of its surface, while both Lancelot and Elena, still managing to be quite cheerful, painfully clung plates and pots in the kitchen.

“Just wait and see!” came Lancelot’s almost laughing tone. “In a few minutes, you won’t even remember that headache…”

Both him and Elena continued working until they showed up with a few mugs and a small, steaming pot, whose smell made Merlin almost barf on the spot. They gave a mug to each and diligently poured the reeking liquid, saying, “Now, this only works if you empty it in one go… and try to hold your nose, it’s a bit nasty…”

Merlin lifted his head to stare at this cup, and the unnamable mixture of colors, scents and textures looked absolutely uninviting. He looked around, finding the same dubious expression on his friends. Still, all of them obeyed Lancelot’s advice and covered their nose (and eyes, for good measure), opening their mouth wide and downing the dreadful drink.

A collective string of grunts was heard, mingled with Lancelot and Elena’s giggles, and then the group held their heads quite firmly in their hands, trying to keep everything in.

“It tastes like a stable…” Arthur groaned, grimacing tightly. His comment was received by much laughter, and great relief, for the sound of that laughter didn’t hurt them anymore.

It was a terrible drink, but an infallible medicine.

After this, the group ate a proper breakfast, for all of them were quite starving, and then got ready to leave. But before they went, as usual, the others met in confidence with Lancelot, who promised through a wide grin that he’d have everything ready till summer’s end, whatever that ‘everything’ was.

They walked the short way to the train station with lifted spirits, and even Merlin was now over his anxiety, approaching Arthur with a mischievous grin and promise plastered all over his face. The conversation between the two flowed easy and light, and the brunette reveled in the beauty of this new day, where he’d finally get the best view of entire Camelot.

The Camelot Express dragged itself in shortly after their arrival. That early in the morning, most people were still sleeping or hung-over after the previous night’s festivities, so no one entered the decaying wagons but their group. Merlin didn’t mind it. There was peace in this solitude, even more so if he was among these friends – he was starting to learn.

It was cold, and this part of the train trip would be slightly different from the rest, Arthur explained, and that was why he (sadly) didn’t drag Merlin to the roof again. But now that they were all pretty cheerful, they broke the silence in their compartment and ended up indulging in all sorts of conversation along the way.

And Merlin might have been curious about how different this part of the journey would be, but he didn’t have to wait for long before finding out. Making an effort bigger than ever, putting an immense amount of strain on its ancient gears and wheels, the Camelot Express eventually began crawling up the massive mountain in a wide spiral, allowing the group a gradually better view as time went on. The machinery was going much slower now, and it coughed and trembled as if it were about to stop at any minute, but Arthur’s reassuring smile promised him nothing bad would happen. The many trees lining along the train rails and the morning mist covered most of the plain below them, but Merlin could feel the excitement bubbling inside him. It almost frightened him again.

And in the meanwhile they conversed about their journey so far, and Merlin was thoroughly questioned on his opinion on Camelot so far. He not so begrudgingly admitted that his initial opinion had changed, for the best. It was nice to see how Morgana and Gwen received this answer with joy, but Merlin felt most pleased with the happy, even if somewhat annoyingly arrogant, smirk on Arthur’s lips.

It came a point when the climb was so steep that the train almost went backwards, but the group was there to give it all the support they could, singing a particular song of the previous night’s band, of motivation and endless cheer. There was no way of telling if this was actually helpful, but it didn’t seem to matter in any case.

The minutes rolled, and soon enough the climb was over. The train sighed and was now riding straight across a plain at the very top of the mountain, where a clearing among the trees revealed another train station.

The vehicle stopped and sighed again, heaving a long breath and taking a few, well-deserved moments of rest. With a new wave of butterflies hovering inside his perfectly healthy stomach, Merlin followed his friends outside. There was still a blanket of mist hovering surreally above the forest and the peak of the tall, tall mountain, blocking most of their sight, but the few specks of blue sky offered teases of an amazing view. Merlin’s legs were trembling so much out of anticipation that he could barely make himself walk. And it only worsened when Arthur held his hand, an emotion so overwhelmingly intense lingering in his blue eyes that Merlin didn’t know how he didn’t finally collapse then.

“Come with me,” the blonde pleaded, smirking softly, and the brunette complied immediately, the two of them promptly stepping away from the rest of the group, into the dream-like misty forest with held hands.

They were silent if not for the crunching leaves and the early birds, and even if Merlin couldn’t quite see where they were going, his heart still thundered inside his chest. Soon enough, the grassy ground grew progressively rockier, and the mist grew sparser, allowing a more brilliant shade of cerulean to show through.

Once the forest was well behind them and the fog was nothing but a thin veil, Arthur and Merlin stopped. The blonde eyed his friend with a mix of nervousness and excitement, and for that moment he let go of the other’s hand, saying, “Just wait a second here… Let me see if everything’s okay…”

Arthur stepped through the veil and hummed approvingly at what he saw beyond it. When he returned, he was grinning wide and had extended the same hand for Merlin to hold again.

“Here, step right in…” he invited. “And try not to trip.”

And so Merlin did. He squeezed his friend’s hand as if looking for reassurance, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw behind the mist.

Arthur and Merlin were standing rather precariously at the very edge of a rocky cliff, and as far as the brunette could see, this was the highest point in the entire horizon. A colossal plain, bigger than anything he could imagine, stretched like a snuggly carpet inside the circular mountain range where he was standing. This plain was rich, richer than he had the chance to experience during the course of their journey, like a blanket made from patches of all sorts of fabric, texture and color. There were tiny villages and tiny farms, baby forests and baby fields, and bright, meandering thin rivers racing to the immense, shimmering pool that was the ocean. It was green, and brown and silver, and the azure of the sky and the gold of the sun seemed to set it all alight, like a dream come to roaring life.

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat and he squeezed Arthur’s hand in his again. He felt minuscule and he felt like a colossus, and he felt that he could live a hundred years looking at this plain and still find something new and exciting about it every time.

This was Camelot, he could finally see it. This had been his mother’s home, Arthur’s home, and for a while now he could see it was his own home too. He could see how much it was worth protecting. He could feel the pain in knowing how it was steadily dying, and it certainly would die, if Merlin could do nothing about it.

Merlin realized this; he had been playing so many video games, one after the other, through all his life, for the very emotion he was experiencing now. Having Camelot bared before him like this was like opening the world map of his favorite video game, knowing he could visit all those places and talk to all those people living there, waiting for a hero to save them, knowing that he was that very savior. It was much more empowering than anything he’d ever done, and it was something he could live his life for. With Arthur’s hand in his and the Master Sword held in the blonde’s belt, he felt that they could do this, that they were everything the land needed.

Merlin had his whole life in his hands, and for the first time he was aware of just how amazing that truth was, just how infinite the possibilities were. Kilgharrah’s words of destiny and wonder rang ominously inside his head, and the brunette felt, at long last, free.

Arthur’s fingers curling around his made this moment even more real, and the wide grin they exchanged, wild, free and warm, were only matched in happiness by Merlin’s next action.

He saw how the blonde opened his mouth to nervously say something, something he had know for quite a while now, so instead of letting him say it, Merlin swallowed the words instead, taking his own happiness into his hands and kissing Arthur with all the breath left in him.

He was pleased to feel his surprised friend’s arms tightening around his shoulders, while his own hands found comfort on the other’s golden hair. He was delighted with the motion of Arthur’s lips against his, so tender and hungry, as he dived softly into their intimacy.

When they eventually pulled away, grinning wider and feeling warmer than before, Arthur buried his face in the spot where Merlin’s ear met his neck, and the brunette kindly squeezed him harder against himself.

His voice was shaky yet so determined as he said, “I love you too, Arthur.” He sighed in a murmur. “I have for a while now. And I’ll be here, always with you. I’ll help you save Camelot. Thank you so much for bringing me here…”

He heard Arthur laugh against his shoulder, and Merlin’s own body chuckled warmly in return. The blonde pulled away and held the brunette’s narrow face with gentle hands, and the bright and lovely fragility he could see in his azure eyes almost made him cry on the spot.

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way…” Arthur admitted, leaning in for another kiss. “And I guess it was a brilliant idea I had, bringing you to the place where my parents proposed to each other… The best view in Camelot. It always works.”

“Prat…” Merlin giggled, curving a smile of plump lips against Arthur’s cheek.

“Idiot,” the blonde replied, beaming his boyish grin that made Merlin’s insides melt, entwining their fingers together again.

Once more holding hands, the pair gave one last glorious look at their home before slowly stepping back into the path.

There was a single, small and cozy-looking wooden house further ahead, and they were heading straight to it.

Merlin felt that the promise had only just begun, and that he loved the life he had chosen for himself so far. He couldn’t have wished for better company.

\---

“Why am I not surprised that your family has a vacation home?” Merlin asked through laughter, as Arthur and him stepped inside the wooden house. They were met with silence and emptiness, which only meant that Morgana and Gwen were busy somewhere private on their own.

Merlin stopped at the hall to admire the simple albeit elegant beauty of the house, with its paintings and carpets and furniture all reminiscing the ancient culture of the region. A particular carving above the threshold of the main room was quite fascinating: a dragon and a sword in a stone.

“We don’t come here often, to be honest…” Arthur explained, guiding Merlin to a set of stairs. “I guess the house has seen its prime time before… before I was born.”

Merlin squeezed the hand in his. He ventured a gentle smirk, “Are you going to show me where we’re going to sleep or not?”

And this seemed to have worked, for the blonde replied with a bigger grin and nodded. The pair went upstairs, to a corridor lined with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. There was no sign of either Gwen or Morgana here either.

“This was my grandparents’ house first. It had their bedroom, my father’s room, and a guest room. On the rare occasions we came here, I got to keep my father’s old room…” Arthur stated in a murmur, and opened a door to his side, at the very end of the corridor. He beckoned Merlin to follow him.

It was, indeed, Arthur’s room. Everything in it felt like the young Pendragon, even the scent was somehow the same. The walls were lined with old toys, with old photographs, old books, and Merlin could see a million different Arthurs stare back at him, grinning that mischievous, boyish look. The brunette dropped his backpack on the floor and sat at a side of the soft bed that, surprisingly!, wasn’t Arthur’s, idly grabbing one of the photographs on the bedside table.

A pang of utter tenderness echoed in Arthur’s heart, for Merlin looked as if he had been there all along, and he saw the other smirk at his six-year-old self, running a thin, pale finger over his face. The blonde came to sit next to Merlin. “You look just the same…” the brunette giggled. “Always the same prattish grin. The same adorable prattish grin.”

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s cheekbone. “You can’t imagine how it feels, having you here, interested in these things. Thank you…” his voice mumbled, muffled by the skin of Merlin’s long neck.

“I do imagine,” the other replied, running a hand over the golden threads of Arthur’s hair. “And I want to know more. I want you to show me everything,” he added, arm stretched out, as if embracing the whole bedroom.

And that seemed like a wonderful plan…

Always close to one another, the two explored Arthur’s room thoroughly. Merlin tested the paper airplanes and slid the miniature replica of the Camelot Express over the floorboards, he picked random books on the land and of fiction and laughed heartily at the many pictures the blonde showed him and at the ones he had to fight to see too.

Everyone else showed up in these pictures, and Merlin recognized Leon and Lancelot, Elyan and Percival, Gawaine, Gwen and Morgana, all so very different, all still the same. With every picture came a story, and Merlin stared wide-eyed at Arthur as he told the tales of his youth, not without some nostalgia. It dawned on the brunette that he had never experienced anything similar to these adventures, a fact that would have saddened him before, but in Arthur’s words Merlin found hope for himself.

In one of the oldest pictures was a couple Merlin didn’t recognize, and Arthur’s tone turned softer than ever as he explained that these were his parents, Uther and Ygraine. The brunette looked solemnly from one to the other, and he could see so many points of the blonde’s beauty in both of them. The younger Uther surely possessed the regal look, and the boyish grin. Ygraine possessed fiery passion, showing in her eyes, and undying tenderness. There was a deep melancholy to Arthur’s look as he said these words to Merlin, but there wasn’t much he could do to fix this, for soon enough the blonde was showing him yet another picture.

This one was even older. Uther and Ygraine were quite young, still children, and Merlin’s jaw dropped at the sight of a young Gaius. Funnily enough, the Piers in the picture looked just the same. And then Arthur grinned, pointing to a girl near his parents.

“Do you know who that is?” he asked.

Merlin narrowed his eyes, definitely seeing something very familiar in the girl’s face, the dark hair and the pale skin, and other features quite similar to his own. His eyes suddenly widened when he understood. “It can’t be… is that… my mother?”

Arthur laughed. “Yeah. It’s funny, isn’t it? How I held a part of you all this time, unknowing that things would actually turn out like this…”

And, still quite aghast, Merlin had to agree with him.

The hours rolled by in pleasant conversation, endless sharing, with Merlin eventually giving Arthur an awkward report of his pitifully uneventful life. The loss of his father was the hardest to speak of, but it was good to have someone who understood his pain listening to him. Merlin had never talked with anyone else for so long, or of so many things. And no one else had been as interested to know more about him as Arthur.

Among their talking, the two of them would touch, and the lingering, growing desire of each caress offered a wonderful build up, a beautiful kind of torture. Holding and being held became so very pleasant in Arthur’s warm arms, and so did his breath against his skin, the very beating of his unsteady heart, the sound of his heaving chest. In their quiet tangle of limbs, sitting on the bed, the two would kiss slowly, teasingly, getting to know each other’s flavor and quirks, what made Arthur moan or Merlin sink his fingertips into the other’s skin. They’d laugh at their failures, smile at their eagerness, groan at their victories.

Through these moments of raw exploration, Merlin’s heart felt heavier, sinking deeper into the pit of his stomach, a warm, warm pool. He could see the same happening to Arthur, in the way his eyes grew darker, his face redder, his breath more labored.

But a different, more literal, kind of hunger soon caught up with them, and the two were interrupted by the protesting sound of their grumbling stomachs. They laughed between kisses, and Merlin was given the important task of finding them both food.

He quietly sneaked out of the bedroom, the night now settling outside, tiptoeing down the stairs, getting a bit lost before he finally located the kitchen. He was hoping to snatch something ready to eat from the fridge, but instead he found Gwen there, and he froze on the spot.

Merlin was pretty sure he was bearing obvious marks of his afternoon’s activities, in the way his lips were redder and more swollen than usual, or how his hair and clothing were in complete disarray. The excited smile on Guinevere’s face told him he’d been caught, and before Merlin could explain his reasons for being there, the young woman’s arms were already thrown around him.

“Oh, Merlin!” she exclaimed. “I knew this would happen, Morgana and I were rooting for you so hard! You’re going to be so happy!”

“Yeah…” he replied, even if with some strain. “I think we already are…!”

When she let him go, she also helped him on his quest for dinner, and as he left with two giant plates of meat and mashed potatoes, he felt his ears burn while Gwen wished him a very good luck for the evening.

Merlin managed to return to the bedroom without spilling or dropping anything, and he beamed at Arthur, who looked so heart-wrenchingly happy to see him again. The two of them ate in half silence, with Merlin reporting his meeting with Gwen and the fortuitous events that came from it, and he could feel Arthur’s smile more than see it, and he knew the other also hoped for good luck that night.

When night was completely settled in, Arthur threw the window and the blinds wide open, allowing the pale moonlight to spill through the thin curtains, flooding the room with dark blue silver. Both he and Merlin crawled across the shade and back on top of the bed, back to their promising embrace. Merlin pressed his entire body to Arthur’s, and the blonde held him, kissed him with everything he had.

Merlin’s tongue eventually slipped past Arthur’s lips, and he was met with a throaty moan from the other. Their kiss deepened, dragged out, their mouths meeting in an intimate, thorough caress. Merlin was shivering, and he knew it had little to do with the breeze flowing in from the open window.

Their hands grew bolder as their pace hastened, and Merlin would giggle into the kiss if Arthur reached a ticklish spot, only to change that ridiculous sound into a much more interesting moan as Arthur pressed a whole new spot of his skin. Merlin found that the blonde was particularly fond of having the base of his back squeezed, while the brunette became shamelessly pliant if Arthur dragged his teeth along the line of his long, pale neck.

Heart pounding, hands shaking with nerves, Merlin tentatively tugged at the hem of Arthur’s t-shirt, only to find his initiative quite encouraged. Lust clouding over his eyes, he peeled off every unnecessary layer off the blonde’s lean yet well-sculpted body, hungrily feasting on the sight of Arthur almost naked, fingers trailing over the warm, heaving skin and the dusting of hair over his chest.

Arthur returned the favor with the same devotion and tenderness, and Merlin’s pale skin practically shimmered under the moonlight. He almost hugged himself to cover his body, feeling the same insecurity and inadequacy he did at the beach, but Arthur promptly stopped him by grabbing his arms, diligently pushing him back to the bed and catching every little beautiful jutting bone he could find with his mouth and tongue in a loving, appreciative kiss. Merlin was certainly thankful for that…

Lying on the soft bed, the pair took this brand new, skin-on-skin proximity and experimented with whatever they could, allowing their mouths to get acquainted with the topography and personality of each other’s bodies, letting lust roam free and ever-pleasing. They locked arms, lips and legs, they made sure that every little piece of their receptive skin was properly tended to, until hands reached lower and lower, and eventually their whole clothing was discarded.

Arthur roamed curious eyes over Merlin’s swollen erection, a mirror of his own, and the way he licked his own lips made something primal and completely desperate curl inside the brunette. They were back in their sitting embrace, but they were much more flushed and disassembled than before, craved so much more proximity, and there was no turning back for them now.

Squeezing Merlin’s hips with his hands, Arthur grinned mischievously as he asked, “Have you ever been with anyone else like this?”

The brunette had to swallow a groan from hearing the blonde’s husky voice before nodding, mirroring his grin. “Yes. But never with someone with a penis…” he admitted. And because Arthur looked so curious, he continued, rather sheepishly, “My first time was with a girl called Freya, in college. Things were sweet between us, and it was good, but I… I came sooner than her… and I ended up eating her out…”

Laughter rang from Arthur’s mouth, making Merlin’s ears turn crimson, but there was nothing mocking or hurtful in the sound, just sincere fondness. The blonde smiled brightly before Merlin added in a whisper, eyes narrowed, lips quirked up, “I can do more or less the same to you, if you want…”

This instantly earned him a groan from Arthur, who pressed himself closer to him before mumbling, “I think you might just undo me by just talking about it…”

Merlin chuckled at that, dropping a kiss to a blonde’s ear and asking, “What about you? Were you with someone else before me?”

And to that Arthur shook his head, the look in his face almost disgustingly tender as he explained, “Pendragons love with all their heart.”

And there was something quite precious about that truth, the fact that he’d be Arthur’s first and only, that should Merlin be gone, the blonde would fall apart, just like his father before him. It made him want to give it all to make Arthur always happy, always proud that his heart had gone to him. Not that he’d loved him any differently if this weren’t the case. But it was heartwarming to have the two of them fumbling together, so new at their own sexuality.

And, with that, Merlin knew exactly what to do.

He caught Arthur’s lips in a new, lazy, slow kiss, and then he caught his hand, twining their fingers together, fisting them around their penises, now marvelously squeezed together.

The blonde let out a beautiful moan of approval against Merlin’s lips, and for good measure, the brunette dragged their hands once along their length.

Arthur shamelessly wound an arm around Merlin’s waist, keeping them as close as possible, and his voice was broken and distraught as he begged for the other to move.

And so Merlin did.

They managed to maintain a good pace, Merlin and he, with the brunette beautifully undulating against him, and Arthur kissing and squeezing him tight. Sometimes their coordination would falter and they’d slip, hands fallen to their laps, but then they’d laugh and Arthur would kiss Merlin’s neck, his chin, his open mouth, and they’d find their place again, continuing unhindered, breaths, tongues, moans tangling.

It was a beautiful thing, to watch them move together, melt together, reshape their whole beings from the inside to accommodate one another. It surely didn’t feel like this with Freya, and he knew he’d never feel like this with anyone else.

As Merlin moved, ever hungry, restless, Arthur’s name was on his lips and he held onto it like a mantra, allowing everything that the blonde represented to build up his climax, motion by motion.

He was so close, quite so much, and as he stared right into the darkened blue of Arthur’s hazy eyes, he could see that the blonde was too.

They eventually came with their heads full of each other, full of their brilliant future and potential together, and Merlin collapsed onto Arthur’s welcoming body right away, pressing himself tightly against him as if he’d already missed the wonderful proximity.

Arthur rocked them gently on the spot, allowing his hyper-sensitive skin to go into overdrive, and as his chest heaved with his quick panting breaths, it was of much comfort to feel Merlin return safely to reality with him.

Among his many, disarrayed emotions, the blonde started chuckling softly against Merlin, and they immediately agreed that this was something they’d have to do in a very regular basis, to the very end of their lives.

The chilly night breeze brought goose-bumps to their skin, but Merlin thought this was very good: it only assured him that he was actually awake, and that none of Arthur and his Camelot was just an illusion conjured by his very lonely mind. Everything about that moment had been real, and Merlin was quite ready to accept this and all its consequences.

Their embrace eventually loosened, and Arthur reluctantly slipped out of bed to gather the many leather cushions on the floor, dragging them out, into the narrow balcony. Merlin pulled a few covers and the pillows from the bed and went to join him, the two of them reassembling their embrace in this new nest of tenderness.

The two were at the same level, lain against the pillows, and Arthur had his arms around Merlin’s small frame, had his face nuzzled against the crook of the other’s neck. The Pendragon vacation house was high enough to allow them a beautiful view of the region below, shrouded in night, moon and starlight. Merlin allowed himself to sink in this surreal, but still quite real environment, and the serenity of it all inspired him to talk.

“I think I already know how we’re going to do this…” he admitted, running lazy fingers over the bent line of Arthur’s nose.

“Do what?” the blonde asked.

“Save our home. I’ve seen the papers, and I know my stuff. There’s a lot we can do already…” With a free hand, he pointed to the land below. “You told me of the abandoned inns, the farms, the other facilities. We can definitely bring them back to life, and I know exactly how. And I know just what to do to keep it that way, this time…”

Merlin felt Arthur grin against his fingers. “Someone sounds motivated…”

“I am…” Merlin admitted. “And I think you’ve had a chance all along. It’s going to take work and time, but now you have a city-boy, and he knows what he’s doing. I’ve been just so… blind, so powerless. But not anymore.”

Arthur leant in, kissing his round, big ear. “From now on…” he whispered, “… even if we’re not together, you’ll never have to hold back. You might be clumsy, and bizarre and an idiot, but you’re the best person I’ve met. I want you with me. I hope you feel the same too…”

Oh, Merlin did. And he would prove it to Arthur, over and over again.

\---

It was a long night for the two of them, but still shorter than what they wanted. There was room for much more experimentation over the next moonlit hours, thorough and passionate, and little sleep came to them till the sky cleared and the sun rose. But they needed no rest. As they reluctantly got back to their clothing, to their waking life, they felt as energized as ever.

Morgana and Gwen were waiting for them downstairs, and the couple replied to their knowing half-smirks with a brilliant kiss to each other’s lips, which made them cheer and applaud in return.

They all had a quick breakfast, talking about everything surprising and amazing that happened in their journey, an adventure that was slowly coming to its end. For this next train ride would take them back home, back to Citadel, and with it the end of summer fest would come.

“Oh… so this is the thing you’ve been all mysterious about?” Merlin asked, assuming that he’d get some helpful answers this time. But no such luck…

“Yes… but it’s still going to be a surprise to you, so you’ll just wait and see!” Morgana smirked.

The brunette resigned to this and finished eating. They left the house as impeccably clean as they came in, and walked back to the train station. While they did, Arthur’s fingers entwined with Merlin’s, and they threw a sideways glance at the forest that had harbored them the previous day, changing them for the best.

As expected, the following trip downhill was quicker and easier than the last, with the train gleefully sliding along the mountain line. The quiet morning had painted everything pink and orange, and there was mostly silence during the first part of this ride.

However, as soon as the train reached the immense plain that was Camelot, Merlin himself asked for the four of them to go to the roof, and even if Arthur was the most excited person with this suggestion, Morgana and Gwen gladly followed as well. Like before, the train was empty, and so was the world outside.

Climbing to the roof was easier this time, and the group sat down forming a circle. Merlin snuggled close to Arthur and observed the line of the horizon quite intently, knowing that he hadn’t actually been here yet, knowing he’d have the chance to be whenever he wanted. The thought made him grin.

Throughout the rest of their long, long journey home, Merlin asked for more stories, more memories that the others held about the land, especially about the abandoned farms and villages. All of them spoke in turn, with Arthur showing the same passion and devotion that the brunette had come to love, and he drank it all in, his mind gears whirring away furiously, working hard to form a pattern, something that would help him get started on their ‘destiny’.

Merlin realized more and more just how rich Camelot’s legacy was. To protect it with Arthur, that would be quite an amazing adventure.

He might have got a few new sunburns from spending the entire day out in the sun, but he didn’t seem to mind it much. The group might have lain down on the crimson steeled roof, dozing off as they watched the clouds, lulled by the dull trembling of the train upon the railway. Merlin was both holding hands with Arthur and Gwen, like the rest of them, so that neither would roll away.

The hours passed by in a lazy daze, with the tiredness now drenching him to the very bones. Merlin surely wanted a proper bed to sleep in, even in the warm comfort of Arthur’s embrace, but his heart panged painfully on his chest when he felt the train slow down and stop, taking them to the very first thing he saw in Camelot: Citadel’s station. Looking at it now, in the exact same shade of darkness, gave Merlin an utter sense of unknown melancholy, of time passing too fast.

The nights were getting longer, and colder. The chill breeze gave him goose-bumps on his way to Gaius’s house.

Arthur walked Merlin home from the station, holding his tired frame with a chuckle. They stopped just before the front door, and they pressed against each other and the wall in a long kiss, a reluctant goodbye.

When they pulled away, still with their foreheads squeezed together, Arthur murmured, “Tomorrow will be amazing, I promise… and after that, we’ll just do the best we can… before you have to leave…”

Merlin gulped. “I don’t want to be away for long…” he confessed. “I don’t think I can handle it. This year, in college, I’ll be able to choose my internship. I want it to be here, with you. I want to start working here. I think I might need to speak to your father about this…”

Arthur looked both fond and unbelieving at his words, but approval was oozing from his expression. He nodded. “We’ll work on that, together. The day after tomorrow…”

One last thorough kiss for the journey home and Merlin watched the blonde leave with a light heart. He then entered Gaius’s house, only to find the older man working on his chemistry lab.

Merlin was grinning, and Gaius’s eyebrow rose as he appraised the young man before him. And he thought he looked just the same as he had before, but apparently the other disagreed.

“I can see this journey has changed you, dear boy. For the best, I hope…” he said, showing a small smile.

“Oh, it did!” Merlin replied, halfway through a yawn. “Nothing has changed here, though…”

“It surely hasn’t…” Gaius admitted, and he approached the brunette for a short, yet meaningful hug. Then he continued, “If you’re not hungry, please go get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a grand day.”

Merlin wouldn’t remember the answer he gave to Gaius in the morning, but that wasn’t important. He dismantled his backpack, showered and sank into a dreamless sleep anyway. But there was something odd, even wrong, about sleeping on a bed he already knew so well.

When used to the ever-changing landscape, the adventurer’s heart grows restless with familiarity.

But these half-thoughts didn’t disturb his empty slumber any further.

\---

Gaius didn’t wake Merlin up till midday on the next day. And, considering that the bright daylight hadn’t roused him either, the brunette surely needed the rest.

Stretching and yawning all the way downstairs, Merlin was surprised to see both Piers and Arthur there to have breakfast with him, the older man receiving him with open arms and asking all about his journey. The brunette replied as shortly and diligently as he could, and then he leant in to give Arthur a lazy good-morning kiss.

Piers certainly didn’t see that coming.

He poured a good dose of porridge for himself (ah, he had surely missed it!), before smirking at the blonde, asking, “Might I ask why your prattish highness is here?”

Arthur laughed and replied, “Yes, you might. I was talking to Gaius here about your plans for this year, and I think he can help us with a few things. I think we can have this conversation now, but only for a little while…” he smirked, adding, “After that, we have a lot else to do…”

Piers bellowed a powerful hurray at that. “Yeah, Summer’s End is here!”

Merlin laughed as well, and waited for Gaius to come closer before he asked, “So, you agree with our plan, then? I’m aware that it might be difficult to get started right away, but I want to give it a try…”

Gaius pondered. “Uther is a broken man, and grief has hindered whatever progress he had planned for Camelot’s revival in the past. But he isn’t blind to new people, Merlin. If the two of you…” he pointed to both him and Arthur, “… can present a good case, I can’t see why he wouldn’t let you. Just the sight of a city-person today is a rarity, let alone one willing to help!”

Arthur nodded. “I agree with Gaius. Not today, but tomorrow you’ll come with me to the archives room, and you have everything there to get you started.” He now smirked. “I’ve been told you are somewhat magic with management issues. I’ve seen that at work myself. I believe in you, Merlin, and I’m glad I have you here with me.”

The brunette dropped his spoon and reached out to squeeze Arthur’s hands. He could hear Piers crooning in the background.

And they were all set for the day! After breakfast, Merlin got up to get dressed, and he took Arthur’s casual clothing as a model and ended up wearing a snug pair of jeans and another silly t-shirt, blessing people’s faces if they happened to sneeze as they read its text.

Before he left the room, though, Arthur heightened the anticipation for the evening by urgently kissing him, reminding him of his promise of a wonderful day. He also urged him not to forget his old, but still intact, lavender garland. They’d need them again that night.

Citadel was unusually bustling with activity outside, with the many familiar people greeting both Arthur and Merlin with delight and wishes of a good summer’s end fest. But they also saw many people they couldn’t recognize, all of them strangers also wearing the traditional garlands, and they greeted them too.

They met Gwen, Morgana and Elyan in front of the train station, while the two young women were idly kissing and Gwen’s brother greeted them with a wide grin and a quick hug. He was wearing a garland of apple blossoms.

The Camelot Express arrived after a while, and this time the group wouldn’t be riding it alone. Known and unknown people joined them inside, and for the first time ever, they had company in their compartment.

For a moment, Merlin feared that the poor train would be too weak to handle the increased load, but fortunately it didn’t let anyone down. It sighed and all its hinges were strained, but it kept going.

Merlin was also surprised at how quick the journey to Outer Circle was this time. Of course, they were riding on train and not traveling on foot… Still, the brunette stared in awe at the trees that rushed by the window.

Once they arrived there, Outer Circle itself was crowded with all sorts of people, wearing all sorts of garlands. Apparently, meeting someone whose flower matched yours was a big deal, and the group kept meeting random strangers and receiving hugs from them just because of that.

One of these hugs turned out to be Gawaine, even if his garland didn’t match any of theirs. Merlin noted with no surprise that there were dandelions hanging from his, and a single bloom still dangling from his lips.

“You arrived in good time, my friends! And is that Elyan? I haven’t seen you in so long!” he bellowed, engulfing Gwen’s brother in a tight hug.

The group followed him to the center of the village, where they met his father and everyone was promised to have a wonderful time. They whole village had been redecorated to accommodate the festival, with flowers and stands and tall pillars spread all over it, and a high level of excitement seemed to surge across everyone there. Everything was grander than the festival at Lancelot and Elena’s village.

And, of course, both of them showed up little afterwards, followed by Leon and his grandparents and Percival. Merlin was pretty happy to see all these people gathered in the same place, all the ones that were responsible for his current happiness. Even if he blushed deeply when they were made aware of his relationship with Arthur and laughed approvingly at him.

They were also pleased to see the blonde still carrying Excalibur with him. In a festival like this, it could only be a good omen.

There was something odd about some of their actions, though. As they walked about the village, heading towards Gawaine’s farm, all members of the group stopped here and there to pick up the yellow, red and brown leaves already showing in the trees, gathering them all in a big plastic bag. When Merlin asked Arthur, who had just picked a particularly beautiful crimson leaf himself, about this, he merely smiled and said, “Another tradition. You’ll know more about it later. But, for now, help us, will you?”

And even while questioning the sanity of the action, Merlin did help, only to see all of the leaves dumped in a huge pile in front of the farm. Everyone else was doing the same.

Once again, they shared a meal at the farm’s immense dining table, and as usual the food was divine. Everyone kept warning each other not to eat or drink too much, for the day was young and it’d last so much longer, and they somewhat heeded these warnings.

Merlin certainly drunk a good amount of Gawaine’s now fully matured beer, which loosened his tongue and made him feel quite at home in this big, welcoming group.

As the hours passed and the afternoon dragged on, the stands opened and various sorts of music were played, even the band that entertained in the other festival was there! More and more people were flowing in, and Merlin wasn’t surprised at all when he saw Gaius and Piers there, followed by another older man called Geoffrey and a person he immediately recognized from the pictures Arthur showed him.

Uther Pendragon was even more similar to his son his person, Merlin noted. But all the passion, all the devotion that had once upon a time flared inside him were gone, this Merlin noted too. Arthur’s father shook his hand quite absent-mindedly, as if this was an automatic reaction, and he wasn’t quite aware of who was before him. On the other hand, the brunette was overly nervous, and the fear that he was being ignored only made things worse.

Arthur squeezed his hand after Uther was gone, greeting other people, making him relax considerably.

“I didn’t know your father would be here…” Merlin whispered to him.

Arthur cringed. “Yes, as the highest Pendragon, he usually presides over these things… and this festival is particularly important. Everyone, even people who have left for good, usually returns for one more day of Camelot’s finest spirit. I guess they really must miss home…”

Merlin allowed this thought to simmer, and he idly followed Uther with his eyes as he talked to the others with a vacant expression. He was suddenly made quite aware that this was the man he’d have to present his case to, if he were to remain in Camelot for good. The fact made him panic again.

“Relax, you idiot…” Arthur chuckled in a whisper, holding him, pressing a tender kiss to his jaw. “You’re only allowed to think about my father tomorrow. Today I want you focused on other things…”

And soon enough Merlin found out what these things were…

As twilight approached, more preparations were made at the center of the village, and Merlin got to help in these. He wasn’t sure just what exactly he was doing, but the others seemed pretty confident in the patterns they were building with logs and ropes and other obstacles. When he was asked to help carry a giant keg of beer he recognized from a not so distant past, he began suspect they were up to no good…

Other familiar objects began appearing now, like the narrow steel tube that Gwen had given to Leon to ‘prepare’, the book Percival handed to them, the guitar-like musical instrument that was bought from Lancelot and Elena’s village. As Merlin set these up in several strategic places of the maze they’d just built, he started to understand that all mysteries ended that night, even if no one would tell him a thing till then.

When everything was done, Arthur took him by the hand and they walked till they found the rest of the group, at the head of the maze. Merlin was already sensing where this was going, and as he saw more people showing up and Elyan and Morgana now lining the maze with lit torches, he knew he just needed to keep alive and enjoy this.

The crowd opened for the two of them as they walked, and Merlin had to admit, this was pretty exciting. Eventually, they were faced with Uther, who showed the vaguest hint of a smile before nodding and announcing, his voice loud, imposing, regal, “Welcome, people of Camelot and visitors! As you know, every year for many, many years, at Summer’s end, Outer Circle hosts a festival unlike any other, where the people experience the last moments of unrestrained freedom before the Winter comes. As is usual, my son, Arthur, chooses a companion to go through the games, and after that, the festivities ensue…”

Merlin felt his ears burn heavily as all eyes turned to him. It was a good thing that Arthur’s hand was so reassuring in his.

“It appears that this year Arthur will be followed by a guest…” Uther continued, and now Merlin wasn’t so sure that the older man had ignored him after all. “We shall wish them both good luck, and just see how they’ll do…”

The oldest Pendragon fell silent and the crowd applauded in his place. The people began to lose their outlines and to look more like an abyss. This somewhat made it easier for Merlin to focus, and glare at the blonde beside him.

“You prat!” he hissed. “You didn’t say anything about embarrassing myself in front of entire Camelot and more! What am I going to do? I have no idea what’s going on here…”

But Arthur, of course, merely annoyingly laughed. “Geesh, Merlin, these are just games! No one will judge you, no one will make you feel embarrassed.” He subtly twined their fingers together. “Everything will be okay, and you’ll have the most fun in your life, believe me…”

And Merlin could glare all he wanted for now, it would have no effect. The games had started, and he was faced with this new challenge.

There was a steel bar on the ground before them, and Merlin immediately recognized the shape from Leon’s inn: the object inside the veil of fabric. There were strings attached to each of its ends, and Arthur smoothly picked it up, tying one around his wrist and helping Merlin tying the other around his own.

Ahead of them was the maze Merlin helped to build, with logs and ropes and other weirder obstacles. The brunette looked from his tied hand to the expectant blonde, now too far away from him. But there was confidence in his blue eyes, and in that Merlin could trust. He smiled.

Going through this first part of the game demanded a whole lot of coordination between them, for they had to keep on their narrow path, and couldn’t fall out of balance. Clumsy Merlin almost keeled over and slipped several time, but luckily Arthur was steady on the other end of the steel bar, keeping him there, safe.

Merlin’s own cleverness and strategy allowed them to pass several obstacles without going through much trouble, and Arthur followed loyally his every words, trusting his judgment of the situation.

When it was over, Merlin had nearly forgotten that they had quite a considerable audience, and was only fully reminded of them because the applause they received was immense. Arthur untied the beam from their wrists and offered a bit of a pompous bow, before the two of them walked ahead to their next challenge.

Now, this looked more promising. There was a podium, and the leather-bound book that Percival had showed in the library before was now resting on it. Merlin couldn’t imagine what they were to do with it…

Arthur stepped forward and stood behind the podium. He beckoned the brunette to follow him. Intrigued, he did. He was also quite curious about the book, and the words he saw inscribed on its pages made him both gasp and chuckle.

“Poetry…” he whispered to Arthur. “We’re reciting poetry now?”

The blonde nodded. “Not just any poetry, though. This is the serious part of the games. It’s a prayer to our highest deity, who watches over everything during the summer, and goes to sleep on this day, every year. This whole fest is a farewell to her.”

Then Arthur flipped a few pages on the old, vanilla-smelling book, then pointed to a part in particular. “Read this passage. It feels relevant…” he confessed.

Merlin read the text to himself once, and he had to admit that Camelot had some of the greatest poets. The text was sublime enough to be presented to a goddess, but humble and simple enough to allow everyone to relate to it. It showed the love of the people for the land, the sadness to see it put to sleep, and the hope of a reawakening. Merlin smiled as he finished looking over the text, and he nodded at Arthur. “You are right. It’s perfect.”

Now, Merlin wasn’t used to speak in public. He had dealt with public presentations in college, but there had never been as many people listening to him as there were now. And there was always a deep feeling of dread haunting him, that he wouldn’t be able to connect with individuals of his own species…

Fortunately, this fear seemed to fade when he was in good company, and Arthur made sure that he read the passage from start to finish without a single hiccup. From the silence surrounding him as he read, he could tell that people were actually listening, and that could only be a good sign.

When it was over, a new round of applause came and Merlin smiled brightly to it. He really couldn’t tell at the moment, but Arthur beside him, as well as his whole people, was looking at him and seeing through his words, into the hope of the region’s reawakening. As Merlin mimicked Arthur’s ridiculous bow, he was the mask of a new, brighter future, and the blonde was very happy to hold his hand and continue the most sacred festival of his home by his side.

The last two challenges were fairly easy, and ingeniously devised to entertain anyone.

When the musical instrument from Lancelot and Elena’s village showed up, there wasn’t much room left for the imagination. Still, Arthur picked it up and showed some expertise as he stroked those strings, creating a simple rhythm that would have the band proud. Merlin followed his lead and sang the best he could, even if eventually both their voices were muffled out by the sound of the villagers joining in.

The last game, of course, involved Gawaine’s impressive alcohol kegs. Merlin surprised everyone by filling his deep mug with mead instead of beer, like Arthur, and he earned the eternal respect of everyone in that village by swiftly and bravely downing it in one go!

Arthur didn’t let him touch another drink for the rest of the night.

With the games over and properly acknowledged, everyone turned to their celebration. The sun was now gone and the night was young, and Merlin felt relieved to be back with their group.

From then on, the evening became a proper party.

Like before, there was food and dancing, a bit of drinking and meeting a lot of old and new people. Always with his hand deeply linked to Arthur’s, Merlin managed to never get lost as they scurried from one place to the other, watching the people revel in the festivities, and participating themselves. He finally saw Piers there, and as usual he was a man much younger than his age, enjoying everything the most he could, especially those magnificent dance moves he showed.

After a while they grew tired of the crowd, and managed to slip next to the railing surrounding the village center, which practically vacant of people. Arthur leant against it, eyes on the people and a smirk showing, for a sluggish Merlin was comfortably draped all over his back.

In this cozy state of peace, the couple didn’t see the approach of a stranger, who only made himself noticed as he said, his voice collected and stoic – such a contrast to the party, “I take it this the Merlin everyone has been talking about…”

Both young men immediately rose from their rest, and Merlin saw a boy in his late teens before him. He was ridiculously young, too young to be wearing that type of suit, so very different from the warm, more casual outfits Arthur would sometimes wear. He looked a lot like him, pale skin, dark hair and blue eyes, but his were hauntingly cold, eerily piercing. Around his neck, almost in a mocking tone, the boy wore a garland of forget-me-nots, like Morgana’s.

“Hmm…” Arthur hummed, smirking at the boy. “Merlin, you finally had the chance to meet our beloved Mordred!”

Merlin’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be…? Really?

The teen laughed. “Such kindness of you, dear Arthur! The two of you surely put up quite a spectacle before! Everyone is so happy. But I wonder just how long that will last… You could save everyone the hurt and heartbreak, Arthur. You just have to say the words…”

“Over my dead body, Mordred,” the blonde said, still smiling wide.

And at that Mordred merely shrugged and headed away. The couple went back to their comfortable position. Merlin could hear Arthur’s heart beating faster against his face. He squeezed the other and said, “Gee, he’s even a bigger prat than you are!”

Arthur chuckled rather sadly. “For our sake, I hope you’re wrong…”

Merlin smiled. “Well, he doesn’t have me! I’m not scared of him…”

More time passed, and soon the last big event of the festival was happening. People were gathered to the center once more, around the pile of dying leaved that had been thrown there. Merlin was already expecting someone to set it on fire, and as the flames blazed higher, he could understand why they did it.

The last moments of wonderful summer were lived in a glorious blaze, ephemeral, but unforgettable. He pressed himself closer to Arthur, and watched the fire lick the night sky.

With time, more and more people began leaving, heading for the last train home. They said goodbye to their friends, old and young, but wouldn’t move from that very spot. But after a while, Merlin felt Arthur stretch and rise, taking him by the hand. He followed his instructions, and feeling quite curious, he proceeded to get a few of the still lit torches, handling them with care. He didn’t ask anything. He had learned that Camelot had a way of pleasantly surprise him every time.

But the path they walked, away from the village, was familiar to him. And, as expected, they soon arrived at the famous embrace rock Gawaine had introduced to them. Arthur set the torches around it, and with a mischievous smirk he stood, waiting, at the crevice that would lead them inside.

Merlin eyed the whole setting, from the carefully arranged torches to a grinning Arthur, and he smiled rather impishly in return.

“I can’t decide if this is either extremely blasphemous or quite holy…” he asked, approaching the blonde and taking his hands.

“I’m not sure about that myself…” Arthur admitted. “But I’m willing to take the risk…”

Hand in hand, the two slipped inside the rock. They made sure to be quite close together at all times, otherwise the rock’s surface would bruise their skin. They kissed as they undressed, and one by one their pieces of clothing were thrown outside. They held each other, skin to skin, and Merlin had to admit that everything in this setting, from the secluded, unique location, to the blonde’s mischievous smirk as he rolled against him, was very, very pleasant. He couldn’t help but let out a curse, squeezing them both tighter, to which Arthur replied with a manic chuckle and a trembling moan.

Midway through their lovemaking, it began pouring. Merlin caught every tear that trailed its way across the valleys of Arthur’s skin with his mouth. The two of them moved faster, shivering under the cold rain.

As they came, neither of them could regret their actions, being them blasphemy or prayer. A tangle of limbs, warmth and affection, they snuggled inside the rock, and feared no wrath of no god. What kind of god would punish such an act of love, in any case?

With their bodies thoroughly soaked and their clothes in a worse state, it was quite a challenge to get dressed again, but they faced it with patience, time and laughter. The torches had been extinguished for a while now, rain pooling on them.

It kept pouring as they snuggled and began making their way home, downhill across the forest, void of any other human presence, for the last train for the night was now long gone. They walked right over the shiny, steel train tracks, holding each other’s hands to keep balance, to share body heat, almost unable to believe the surreal nature of their escapade.

They arrived at Citadel, two puddles of rainwater, near sunrise, even if the clouds blocked most of the dim light away. A mat of hair clinging to their foreheads, they kissed before letting go, heading for a well-earned rest before the days of labor ahead.

\---

The last week Merlin spent in Camelot went by quickly. Too quickly. And he spent most of it inside the old archives room.

Meeting Uther Pendragon to ask him for an internship was a moment the brunette was dreading with all his being. The older man still seemed like a pillar of fragility to him, and now that he had decided to get involved in a matter so very delicate to this family, he knew he had to be careful around Uther.

Thankfully, everyone had been quite helpful, and Merlin was never alone in this old, ominous room, full of records regarding matters that dated way back, further back than he could have anticipated… but then again Arthur had told him how old the Pendragons were…

Since Merlin spent his entire days there, his friends had to bring him food at lunch and dinner time, and he had nothing to complain about that: his friends were impeccable at this task. Sometimes they’d sit next to him and even hand him the books he needed for a particular part of his project. It made him feel less lonely.

Unsurprisingly, all was best when Arthur was with him. Having the two of them side by side, studying the many ways the people had used to survive in the past, was a perfect way for them to grow accustomed to each other’s work and rhythm. Merlin could tell Arthur was proud of him, through the fondness of his face as he read the brunette’s papers over and over again, nodding in approval. And Merlin was surely proud of the blonde, for carrying himself with passion and determination, unrelenting even in times of despair.

But of course the occasional moment of insecurity would come, and Merlin sometimes found Arthur blaming himself for the state of Camelot. If hadn’t been born, his mother wouldn’t have died. Uther would have been a whole man, and perhaps things would be much better in Camelot today. He was, in part, the reason for the land’s ruin. How could he have the nerve to help it now?

Merlin wished only to shush these thoughts of Arthur’s away, and perhaps the panicked expression on his face showed the blonde how much he cared, how much he needed him.

Merlin would hug and kiss Arthur among the scattered books, squeezing him close.

“You have no idea how much of a mess I was before I met you…” he’d whisper, and only then he’d realize how true that was. “Camelot needs you, and so do I… and your father might have been a great man in his time, but he isn’t you.”

In comfortable silence, they’d work the day away on several starting strategies, and day by day Merlin’s case grew in professionalism and credibility. Arthur would always be astounded at his natural prowess for the matter, and this could only be a good sign.

Unfortunately, though, there wasn’t much time they could spend together, for the early night would find Merlin sleeping upon the old archives, a trail of drool almost staining the ancient papers. The blonde would practically manhandle him to Gaius’s home, telling the older man to make sure that idiot got proper rest, and it was always hilarious when, in his slumber, Merlin would still call him a prat. Yet there was nothing but tenderness as the blonde brushed his lips against the other’s in a rushed good-night kiss.

The day Merlin proclaimed he had finished his work was also two days before his departure to Ealdor. Gawaine was in Citadel and he invited both him and Arthur to his room in Gaius’s house, where they spent the afternoon getting acquainted with Merlin’s video games.

With his green outfit and blonde hair, the protagonist of one of these games reminded both Merlin and Gawaine of Arthur, and even if he tried to protest, the resemblance was only made clearer as Merlin had the character yelp and shout about with his sword, his mindless actions and expressions quite similar to the young Pendragon’s. On the other hand, the antagonist of the same game reminded them all of Gawaine himself.

At the end of the day, as Arthur left for his own home, he leant in to Merlin’s ear and whispered a few meaningful promises. It mostly involved the free alone time they’d have after tomorrow, and how they could make the most of it. Merlin quite agreed with the blonde’s propositions, and it gave him something to quite look forward to, after his confrontation with Uther.

Gaius looked over his papers during dinner, and as the brunette munched on cauliflower, he was relieved to see the smile of approval on the older man’s face.

“Everything will be okay, my boy…” he reassured him. “Just finish eating and go get some rest…”

Merlin got to bed early, and was surprised to see himself fall asleep almost immediately after.

He no longer dreamt of endless, screaming races across fields of emerald or gold.

Camelot had brought him peace. He just hoped to pay it back…

\---

The last time Merlin entered the Pendragon mansion that summer, he was kept waiting outside Uther’s office. The elegance of this house was much colder and more oppressive than the warmth of the vacation wooden house, and Merlin gulped as he waited.

He had wanted to meet Arthur before this ordeal, but throughout the whole morning, the blonde was nowhere to be seen. This made him a bit more anxious than he should, but he still held himself together as Uther’s door finally opened. There was a lot at stake, and he wouldn’t let anyone down.

Uther Pendragon sat behind a massive desk of very expensive timber. His office was sternly decorated: no portraits or pictures hung from the walls or sat at his desk. On the older man’s face, Merlin could see the same exhaustion and hollowness as in the previous week, and for a moment he despaired, thinking that arguing with a dead man was hopeless.

“Sit down,” came the older Pendragon’s first words. Merlin tried to make as little noise as possible as he dragged the heavy chair out and sat. Uther made a beckoning signal, and the brunette slid the impeccable stack of papers he’d been working on over the week across the desk.

“So you’re Merlin…” the other muttered, careful fingers running along the paper’s edge.

He gulped, “Yes, sir.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot concerning you. Everyone seems to have enjoyed your stay here. Especially my son.”

Merlin merely nodded, his face turning a faded shade of pink.

“You certainly encouraged the people last week…” And Uther offered a small smile with this, quite similar to the ones Arthur had.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, as the older man read Merlin’s documents from end to end. The young man used this time to look around the office freely, only facing the chief Pendragon when he had a question.

Merlin wasn’t as nervous anymore. His reception had been quite pleasing, and now that he could see Arthur’s father so focused, and sometimes even nodding approvingly at some parts of his work, he knew everything would be fine.

As soon as Uther was done with reading, he twined his hands together and looked at Merlin, saying, “Well, I am quite impressed. You are very young, but you surely know what you’re doing. I can see you took some time to check the archives, and brought back a few of the measures they’d installed at the time…”

Merlin smiled, “I thought it was fitting. If we want to revive Camelot, we ought to keep it as close to itself as possible.”

Uther nodded. “Yes, indeed. I like the way your mind works. You’ve put down important names from your own city, as a first investment for renovations, but you managed to keep any further investments inside Camelot. This is very good.”

“Like I said, Camelot still has to be itself. If people can invest in their own land, this place won’t turn into a soulless corporation… As far as I know, that is Mordred’s plan.”

The older Pendragon nodded again. “You are quite right. Well, I’m very happy to see you here, and I’ll gladly accept this project, Merlin. A boy your age and with your talents is a unique sight here, and it definitely put Mordred on guard. But you should know that I expect full dedication to it. I’ve almost given up on Camelot myself, and I have hope for Arthur, for you. I trust you not to let us down.”

Merlin sighed, relieved. “This journey was an eye-opener, sir. Camelot is my home too.”

“Yes, you’re Hunith’s boy, aren’t you? Ygraine loved her dearly when they were children, before she left. And now, here you are! A good omen indeed.”

The two men got up from the desk, and Uther reached over, not to shake Merlin’s hand, but to pull him into a quick embrace. “Thank you for everything. Take good care of my son. And I’ll hear from you when your college year begins…”

Surprised, Merlin smiled and nodded. He left the Pendragon farm in the best of moods.

\---

However, his excitement was not to last, for Arthur was still nowhere to be found… Merlin scurried all over the city in search for the dollop-head blonde, but no one knew where he was… until he found Piers.

“Oh, you’ll find Arthur soon alright!” the older man said cryptically, moving a few bags inside his van. “I’ve helped him acquire a few items. Sooner or later, you’ll find each other…”

Merlin tried pressing Piers for less annoying, cryptic answers, but he wouldn’t give in.

“Oh, just move along, lad” he laughed. “Find something entertaining to pass the time. Or go pack, like me. Summer’s almost over… don’t waste it on a wild goose chase.”

Stubborn, Merlin went to ask Morgana and Gwen about their friend, but they were completely clueless on the matter. Both of them asked them, excited, about the meeting with Uther, and even if his news about it were amazing, he sounded rather put-out as he spoke of his impressive victory.

Giving up, Merlin headed back to Gaius’s house.

The older man also asked him about Uther, and Merlin smiled and explained everything with detail. Gaius looked very pleased to hear this, and they had a celebratory dinner with Piers, who still remained cryptic about Arthur’s absence.

After they were done eating, deciding that he couldn’t be in that stressful state anymore, Merlin went upstairs, and indeed began packing. Still, his last day in Camelot was running out, and the one person he had wanted to spend it with had vanished.

With the suitcase now filled and ready to go, the brunette slumped onto his fragile bed, staring at the ceiling. He sighed, thinking that he ought to be turning in early, he’d leave for the train station earlier as well.

He didn’t bother with undressing, just laying there on top of the covers, chasing slumber. In a state of half-sleep, he heard Gaius climb upstairs and go to his own room.

Merlin had long given up on meeting Arthur that night when a very familiar sound hit his bedroom window and made him smile. The young man promptly got up, scurried silently to open said window, and half-grinned half-glared at the blonde standing below, looking up at him.

“Where the heck have you been?” Merlin demanded, but Arthur didn’t reply. Instead, he beamed one of his boyish grins and put the plastic bag he was holding to his mouth, so that his hands were free to take a firm hold on the vines climbing to the first floor.

“What the heck are you doing?” Merlin panicked now, but the blonde wouldn’t stop. “I swear to the gods, Arthur, if you hurt yourself…”

But the other was swift and careful as he made his way up, his eyes smiling while his mouth couldn’t. When he arrived at Merlin’s level, he spat the plastic bag into his room, and the brunette immediately enveloped his face with his arms, pressed their mouths together.

“You prat…” Merlin muttered, dragging him in. “You’ve been missing the entire day and still manage to pull a stunt like this now! What’s so wrong about the front door?”

Arthur giggled, scrambling inside Merlin’s bedroom. “Yeah, it’d be such an exciting surprise, coming in from the front door! We still have our last summer night to burn, my dearest idiot. Then, let us burn…”

Merlin couldn’t help a chuckle, even if he shook his head and had to muffle the sound not to wake Gaius up. “Where have you been, anyway? I missed you all day…”

Arthur picked up his plastic bag, and with a glorious grin he showed its contents to Merlin. He was happy to identify a bottle of lubricant and a pack of condoms there, and as he looked up at the blonde, the two of them were grinning wide.

“I’ve…” Arthur began, “I’ve been thinking a lot about you these days… and now you’re leaving, even if only for a while, and I’m going to miss you terribly… Decent people to banter with are quite hard to come by… So I thought you might want to try something different tonight?”

Merlin chuckled, and took the sealed bottle in his hands. “Where the hell did you find these? I wasn’t aware that there was a sex shop in Camelot…”

“And there isn’t… and we ought to change that!” Arthur pointed out. “Piers helped me get some from Mercia. That was why I was away for so long.”

Merlin was unfazed by the fact that Piers knew what they were about to do. He hummed. He dropped the bottle to the bag again and felt Arthur slowly pulling him against him. “I think I can find it in myself to forgive you, then…”

Arthur replied with a chuckle, with a kiss to Merlin’s lips, and, “I also know how things went with my father…” His tone of voice was utterly fond. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

“I love you too…” and this was the approval he had been waiting for all day. Merlin kissed Arthur back.

They clambered awkwardly towards his bed, but as soon as they laid on it, it became quite clear that the frail wooden frame wouldn’t handle their future activities on it. Instead, they dragged the mattress and the covers onto the floor, proceeding there.

There was something more urgent, more despaired about their movements that night. Merlin unwrapped Arthur’s clothes from his body, fumbling quietly with his fingers on the knot of his tie. Arthur pulled him closer with every motion, pressing eager kisses to his moonlit skin.

The blonde eventually lay back on the mattress, and Merlin hovered over him, paying much attention to every bit of skin that he could touch, with keen lips and fingers. As they lay together, squeezed against each other, Arthur searched frantically for the discarded plastic bag, managing to bring out the bottle, handing it to the man before him.

Arthur’s face was a picture of trust and tenderness as Merlin popped the bottle open, smeared his fingers with the gooey substance, gently entered the blonde. His first finger curled around a spot that made Arthur’s mouth open in a breathless moan, his body jerk against him, and the brunette swallowed his pleasure with a kiss.

The next fingers followed seamlessly, and the way the blonde’s body responded to them, driving closer and closer, made Merlin whimper helplessly. Not too long afterwards, the brunette slipped out and fumbled to roll a condom over his sex, smearing it with more lubricant and then pushing himself into Arthur.

Their movements were quite awkward at first, with equal measures of pain and pleasure, eagerness and restraint warring inside. But they eventually got settled, and Arthur’s strong legs were around Merlin’s waist, and Merlin’s hands clutched at Arthur’s back, and their rhythm fell into place.

This was certainly different, and so very pleasurable. Despite the warmth and proximity, they still craved for more warmth and proximity, to the point that they became a tangle of limbs, some pale and some tan, rolling to move even closer together, melt into a single entity.

Arthur caught Merlin’s mouth in a kiss and their eyes half-opened to fix each other’s altered faces, smiling with promise and love.

Their pace hastened and deepened as their need and eagerness skyrocketed, far surpassing any limits on human ambition, and their orgasm hit them at the same time. They kissed fiercely as the waves of pleasure rolled over their bodies, muffling the moaning and the loud panting that’d have the whole house on alert otherwise.

Merlin curled over and against Arthur’s heaving body, not pulling out for now. His fingers played with the semen pooling on the blonde’s stomach, and in a bold move he licked it off his hand, proceeding then to give the other an open-mouthed kiss, making Arthur both rumble in laughter and pleasure below him.

They surely burned the night away in glorious flame. And this was only the beginning.

\---

When the first traces of morning streaked across the sky, they were upside down from their original position, and the covers were in complete disarray, all over the room. Arthur opened his eyes to see Merlin fully awake and draped over him, his brow furrowed as he focused on the Rubik cube on his hands.

The blonde laughed, muffling a yawn, “Shouldn’t you be still sleeping? Gods, you’re unstoppable…”

Merlin grinned, but remained focused on the cube, his fingers beautifully sliding across its surface, changing the colors and positions in a mind-blowing deft and quick rhythm. “I’ll have time to sleep on the train. And I had nothing else to do. I’ve already combed all of your hair, to the left side and to the right. I’ve counted all the freckles on your chest. I even counted the time between your snores!”

“I don’t snore…” Arthur feebly protested, but his eyes were fixed on those hands. “I’m awake now. Maybe you’ll have something else to do now…”

Merlin finally looked at him, smirking. “Maybe…”

Casually dropping the cube, the brunette rolled onto Arthur, and his beautiful hands soon found a new activity to focus on. However, as the blonde move to accommodate the other, he yelped in pain. He pulled the Rubik cube from behind his back and threw it away, while Merlin laughed hysterically and soothed the pain away with a kiss and his wonderful hands.

And, after this, it was Merlin who fell asleep, under Arthur’s fond and loving watch. He had known the other as someone skittish and afraid when he had arrived at Camelot, and now saw him unworriedly spread over his body, not unlike a kitten, a smile tugging at his slumbering lips, his soft and bony frame almost purring, feeling at home. The evolution in Merlin overwhelmed him, and Arthur had to restrain himself from waking the other with a kiss, and starting everything all over again…

Gods, how the two of them had fallen so hard!

\---

When Merlin woke up again, morning was already quite evident through the window. He felt around to see Arthur’s place vacant, and felt mildly distressed. In a rush, he picked up the clothes from last night and got dressed, almost stumbling his path downstairs.

To his great shock, Arthur was sitting there, having breakfast with Gaius, looking dapper in his usual suit, tie and shirt with rolled up sleeves. He tried to ignore the older man’s eyebrow as he moved to the blonde, taking the poorly knotted tie in his hands and arranging it to his taste. Arthur merely smirked, as Gaius’s eyebrow rose higher.

Unfortunately, the last hour before Merlin’s departure went by too quickly, and the three of them plus the backpack had to run to get to the station in time.

From Gaius’s part, the brunette was asked to give his best to Hunith, and make the most of this final college year. As for Arthur, he merely pulled him into one last embrace, kissing the daylights out of him, as the train bellowed louder and louder with steam and impatience.

Stepping into the machine was much harder than stepping out of it for the first time, and the look of abandonment in Arthur’s face haunted him all the way.

One more year, Merlin would think, while the train spluttered and began dragging itself away, and the thought gave him comfort.

One more year, and the world would be theirs.

\---

Returning to Ealdor was a strange, numbing experience. Merlin spent the next year of his life as if this was someone else living his life, and he had no say in the matter. The concrete walls, the constant crowds and the size of the city couldn’t make up for the emptiness in it, and Merlin would feel terribly lonely in his dorm room. His dreams with races and fields returned, but this time more vivid, and there was always a blonde young man holding his hand, running with him.

Hunith had been surely pleased with how Merlin looked when he arrived back home. Apparently, without he even noticing it, the adventure in Camelot made him gain quite a bit of weight, and he looked healthier, even if he was still so very skinny.

He talked to Arthur as much as he could, phoning him every day, convincing him to borrow a few of his games, so they could play them together, while on the phone.

This proved to be a brilliant idea while teaching Arthur all about Portal, but the they somewhat regretted the decision after the two of them plus Gawaine (who was watching Arthur play in Citadel) started Amnesia: The Dark Descent, which kept them awake through the terrifying nights, reassuring each other on the phone that no mouth-gaping monster would chase and kill them. Gawaine laughed and laughed at all this, and Merlin envied him fiercely.

Arthur himself came to visit him a few times. Hunith would thank him profusely for taking care of her son, and the three of them would walk around the city, which the blonde couldn’t understand at all, for it was so different from Camelot.

Merlin took him to his dorm room a few times, and he’d unwind the black tie from Arthur’s neck and hang it around the doorknob: a universal sign that he didn’t want to be disturbed by Will. But, of course, his roommate merely laughed at it and entered anyway, earning him a view he wouldn’t forget so easily.

Arthur hated being in Ealdor as much as Merlin, that feeling of entrapment in a place so huge and empty, and for the short time he’d stay, Merlin could taste the fields, the farms and the ocean on the blonde’s body, and he felt at home again.

Before he left for the last time, Merlin took him to the Dragon’s Den, and Kilgharrah was simply delighted to see his apprentice, completely fulfilled, and his destiny walking hand in hand. They also found that the older man had found himself a new apprentice, an agendered teen, their name Aithusa, who wore their long and platinum hair tied in a ponytail and mimicked Kilgharrah’s style of dressing, a white suit with white crocodile shoes.

Despite their young age, Merlin was assured that Aithusa was quite intelligent, and just as competent as him in gaming. They’d certainly make for good company in Merlin’s absence.

As they left, Merlin and Arthur heard Kilgharrah laugh and wish them the best luck in the future. Merlin had wanted to ask him how he had known the way things would play out all along, but he decided against it. In many ways, he felt like the older man was yet another of Camelot’s ancient deities, all knowing, mischievous, cunning, powerful. Perhaps that was why he’d always felt at home at the game store…

And, of course, Merlin’s internship took over the rest of his year. Because of it, he had to scurry around in many different places, both in Ealdor and Camelot, to gather investors, protect the people, getting their project to renovate everything started. Uther was the best supervisor he could have asked for. Now that he was assured that Merlin would take the job seriously, Arthur said his father resembled the man he was before Ygraine’s death more and more. This made everything better, this gave everyone hope.

Merlin graduated as soon as his project began showing its first results. Already were more people showing up in Camelot, and because it was easier to win their interest there, the farms next to Leon’s inn and the ocean, once known for their unique breeds of horses and now regaining their fame again, were revived. The Camelot Express was also completely renovated, to match the image Merlin had imprinted on his friends such a long time ago. But he had requested to keep their compartment intact: the peeling cushions, the rusty window.

He had all of his friends at his graduation, all the people that played such an important role on that fateful summer. They celebrated and turned Ealdor into a happier place throughout the course of their festivities, until Merlin himself moved back to Camelot.

His mother would miss him, but she was infinitely proud of who her son had become. He would forever thank her for changing all his plans, on that fateful summer.

Gaius received him back with open arms, and Gwen and Morgana had faith in their destiny.

Arthur and Merlin finally began working together, leading the people of Camelot to a new age of prosperity. Any bigger progress took them years and a lot of hard work to accomplish, but this was their place, this was their life, and they were happy to be a part of something so grand.

They worked hard, but not too hard. Whenever the world battered them too hard and for too long, they’d hold each other’s hand and walk away from everything, get lost in the mother-land that had called them both, and get immersed in yet another mystery, yet another new place, they’d get immersed in each other.

Arthur and Merlin were young, so young, and the whole world, much bigger than just Camelot, was their blank canvas, their empty world map from an immense and completely real video game. Through a green field and with Excalibur in hand, they could take anything, go anywhere, do whatever they wished.

They never heard from Mordred again, but maybe someday, after they were gone, a new Mordred would come, and then Camelot would fall. But that day was still far, far away.

For now, they are all the potential in the universe, contained in these frail human bodies.

For now, they burn all the days away, like summer’s end, in glorious flame and bellowing steam.

\---

THE END


End file.
